


lattes & lace

by AnaG



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Curse, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Eventual Romance, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-05-11 08:51:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 76,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5620858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnaG/pseuds/AnaG
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Regina's a successful, focused businesswoman running a burgeoning lingerie line that is just starting to gain international attention. Until one winter, an irritating woman opens up a coffee shop next to her studio... and generates constant distractions. But not all of the distractions are a complete disaster. Only few.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Forbidden

It was the height of the Christmas shopping season, but Christmas was the furthest thing from Regina Mills’ mind.

She had debuted her spring 2016 collection only last month, and the buzz from her collection - a spectacular one, if she did say so herself - was her best yet. Better than any other since she started her business over a decade ago.

Downstairs, she could hear the bell on the door chime over and over and the din of conversation and laughter. Of course. It was the last full weekend before Christmas - a Friday, this year, much to the chagrin of most in retail - but Regina barely paid it any notice. She was upstairs in her studio office, focused on writing notes for her upcoming lines, clicking through Excel spreadsheets with price points for the department store buyers, the names of the journalists who were conducting the interviews she had lined up in upcoming weeks, and dates of photoshoots she had to oversee.

There was a headache brewing in the area right around her temple, and she suspected that she hadn’t had more than 8 hours of sleep in the past five days combined. She craved coffee, but her espresso machine had just broken. She was grateful that it was Saturday; her small team of designers normally worked in the upstairs studio, chatting until all hours of the day and night, but she'd given her team a bit of time off on weekends this month so they could see their families for once around the holidays.

She glanced at her Rolex. She had 14 minutes until her phone call with the journalist from Vanity Fair. It was going to be a small write-up.

The manager of her retail space downstairs, Belle, had brought up coffee earlier, but Regina frowned as she held her half-empty China cup. She’d ordered one of those espresso machines with the pods special from Europe a few months ago, but the pods were difficult to source in the U.S. and she wasn't impressed with the taste. It wasn't the same coffee she'd had in Europe a few months ago. But she had no time to run out and grab a decent coffee at her favorite place, which was a few minutes’ drive away... in good traffic.

Just then, she heard a knocking noise outdoors, drifting up from the sidewalk. A low _thud, thud, thud_.

“What is that?” She asked no one in particular, setting her coffee cup back down and standing up, her black heels click-click-clicking across the polished wood floors. 

She looked down at the sidewalk outside of the window of her second floor office.

Outside of the building next to her, a group of two or three men and one woman were constructing what appeared to be a wood platform. 

Regina let out an impatient sigh. “Not now. Not when Vanity Fair is calling in…” she said out loud, gritting her teeth as she checked her watch again “…11 minutes.”

She grimaced as the banging grew louder. Voices trailed up from the sidewalk, accompanied by laughter. Who were these people, anyways? A For Rent sign had been outside of the brick storefront for at least three months after the last business had closed up shop. Someone new must have moved in.

Not only was the noise a disaster for her phone interview - she required the utmost silence for concentration, especially when she was being interviewed by such a high-visibility outlet - but it was also bad for business downstairs. She strove to provide her exclusive clientele and upscale patrons a relaxed, calm, sophisticated environment.

She began to pace, her phone in hand, the earbuds positioned in her ears, waiting for the call, hoping that the incessant noise from outside wouldn’t carry through on the phone.

1 minute before the set meeting time, her phone rang. 

“This is Regina Mills.”

It was the journalist.

“Ah, Christine. So wonderful to speak with you,” she cooed in a velvet, throaty voice, and began the interview.

 

+

 

Forty minutes later, Regina hung up the phone. By now, her head was absolutely pounding. The noise from outside seemed to keep pace with the throbbing in her temple. She looked out the window and down at the sidewalk to check on the progress of her noisy neighbor. 

A remarkable amount of progress had been made in only an hour - although with all of the noise, at least they’d managed to accomplish something. A platform had been made outside, and she noticed that tables, chairs and several of the most garish inflatable snowmen were being erected as decoration.

It was a winter wonderland.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Regina snarled, tossing her phone onto her desk and stomping over to the hook where her Burberry trench coat was hanging.

She marched downstairs, down a long, twisting, creaking staircase, and down a hall, and into her shop.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Mills,” Belle said in her bright Australian accent.

“I wish,” Regina grumbled as she paraded past the patrons browsing through the shop, pushed the door open and emerged on the sidewalk, the late-afternoon sun filtering through the tree-lined sidewalk. 

She walked over to where all of the ruckus had been taking place and stood in front of the group of workers.

“What is this?” She asked loudly, her hands on her hips.

The three men and the woman glanced over at the sound of her stern voiced, their mouths open slightly. A woman brushed past her to go into the shop, which was apparently still open despite the maddening construction happening outside. Regina looked up at the sign.

**swan song  
artisanal coffee  & donuts**

The sign, which was designed to look hand-painted and rustic and maddeningly written all in lower case, caused Regina to scowl. 

“I’m Emma,” the sole woman in the group of workers outside stepped forward, a hammer in one hand, offering Regina a gloved hand to shake.

Regina ignored the extended hand.

“Are you the owner of this - establishment?” she snapped.

Emma nodded. “Yep. Just opened last week. We’re scrambling to put up some holiday decorations to try to draw Christmas shoppers in for refreshments - sorry for the noise,” she said, grinning apologetically.

“Apology not accepted. I'm the owner of the shop next door and I cannot tolerate this kind of noise during one of the busiest shopping days of the season, not to mention this garish decor doesn’t mesh well with the type of… _tone_ … we want for this street.”

Emma’s smile fell and she put a hand on her hip. “Now wait a second, this is my place, what do you have against me adding a touch of, you know, holiday cheer with it all? Like you, I’m just trying to earn a living-“

“I assure you, Ms.- what is your name?”

“Swan.”

“Swan? Well, that would explain the idiotic name of your cafe. Look, Ms. Swan, your little coffee shop clearly missed the mark in terms of placement. This is Story Brooke, a district that people come to for upscale shopping. We cater to exclusive clientele - Silicon Valley types, mostly, along with a few lingering yuppies with too much time and money on their hands - and we can’t have some goofy cafe with blow-up decorations along this street ruining our calm, sophisticated atmosphere.”

Emma scowled. “I actually did research this area. It would have been a poor business choice for me not to. And yeah, I know exactly what my market is. They are exactly the types I’m trying to attract with my fresh-ground, pour-over coffee, homemade donuts and croissants and muffins and sandwiches and salads. Yeah, I know exactly who I’m catering to here, so don’t lecture me!”

Regina narrowed her eyes. As Emma’s temper flared, that only made Regina want to give the illusion of being calm and in control, her disposition frozen as she watched the woman get worked up. She always preferred it when people had a meltdown in front of her. It gave her great satisfaction when she could be the calm, reasonable, even-tempered one, despite her sharp tongue. It always threw them off.

Regina’s mouth curved up into a little smile. “And what is this little winter - scene - you are constructing out here? Which, by the way, infringes on my storefront. You can’t have paraphernalia that close to my shop’s entrance. Zoning,” she said, gesturing towards one of the garish inflatable snowmen who was grinning wickedly at her.

“Just something festive. It’s only going to be up for a week, two at most. Christmas’ll be over soon, and then it’ll be gone, and you’ll have your precious storefront back,” Emma said.

Regina’s twisted little smile remained on her face, watching as the blonde woman was getting more and more irritated. “Take it down, Ms. Swan,” she said firmly. “Trust me. You do _not_ want to go up against me on something this trivial.”

Emma’s mouth dropped open. “Are you serious? No. It’s my cafe, my decorations. Deal with it for a week, and it'll be over."

“We’ll see about that,” Regina said as Emma turned her back to her to march over where she was erecting several white trees with neon lights to complete the scene.

Regina turned to walk back to her shop.

“Wait, what did you say?” Emma called after her.

“I said, we’ll see about that. You might want to attend the Story Brooke town meeting Monday night. 7pm.”

“What do you mean?” Emma asked, a flash of worry crossing her face.

Regina raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow. “I know some influential people in local politics.”

“Local… what do you mean? The municipality of Story Brooke?” Emma asked.

“Yes. Our town meetings are held the third Monday of every month. Come on Monday and we’ll discuss your little - display - with the downtown retail association. Or remove it. Your choice. It all depends how much hassle you wish to deal with.”

“I’d be glad to go there and check out what this retail association is all about,” Emma said. “Thanks for telling me all about it - wait, what’s your name?”

“Regina. Regina Mills.”

Emma walked out on the sidewalk and took the opportunity to glance over at the storefront that she’d emerged from moments ago. 

**FORBIDDEN**

“Forbidden…” Emma read the minimalist lettering on the window of Regina’s shop, printed in gold font on a frosted square of glass. “What is this? You have some sort of clothing boutique?”

“It’s lingerie.”

She couldn’t help but notice that the woman’s eyes widened slightly at that. 

_I designed every square inch of this store years ago. I grew the business from nothing. I assembled a team of world-class designers, built a business that has clientele around the world. Many are famous. I've studied in Paris and New York, and a few months ago I showed at New York Fashion Week. My work is finally getting the kind of attention I deserve and you are being rude and detrimental with your little hipster cafe._

Regina wanted to say those things, but she bit her tongue. She considered herself too classy to stoop to this coffee shop owner’s level.

“Until we discuss this matter again on Monday, Ms. Swan, I suggest you keep the noise levels down,” she said sternly.

 

+

 

After Regina returned to her office, she sent off a strongly-worded email to a few people she knew who worked for the town and the Retail Association. Then, the rest of the day passed in an unremarkable fashion. Regina had no more calls to make, and she merely had to look over a few spreadsheets with information about orders and stock in her New York boutique and on her online shop, making sure that nothing was going to go too awry in the Christmas-ordering frenzy.

Most of her sales came from her online retail shop, but her boutique here in California was her first retail space and dearest to her heart. It was in the town where she’d lived for much of her life. Her boutique in New York was actually just nested in a larger department store in Soho; tiny, but popular enough to justify the added expense of maintaining floor space over there.

The funny thing about being a lingerie designer was that Regina Mills had never been that interested in being a fashion designer at all. She studied business in school, and as she was working on her MBA, she landed in an internship for a textile company that designed some of the finest materials in the world; not only did they work with the highest quality of precious materials like silks, but also fabrics they specifically innovated through technology to be both comfortable and beautiful. Some of their synthetic materials were as light as air but easy to wash, draped beautifully and could handle any color without ever fading. They were comfortable, luxurious, and worthy of being worn on womens' bodies everywhere.

Following the internship, she spent the next several years traveling the world, apprenticing with the finest lingerie ateliers, making notes and designs and learning how to blend her ever-impeccable eye for detail and exceptional taste for beautiful and romantic things with the latest in construction techniques for undergarments and sleepwear, and of course allowing her business acumen to guide her into a place where she could start her own line, her own retail company, and finally, to bring everything to the competitive fashion market, fighting hard in an oversaturated industry for a little attention and publicity and, of course, sales.

Her hard work had entailed hours of laboring at all hours of the day and night in endless classes, apprenticeships and internships, a few jobs at a couple of fashion houses, and finally, starting her own line and selling it on the internet. As she worked towards her goal, the years ticked off quickly, her son grew up, and she had little life outside of work.

After the FORBIDDEN line was featured on a few prominent style blogs, that’s when she started to see her orders increase, and finally, she could afford to expand her line, expand the styles, increase the quality and make her lingerie more exclusive and luxurious than it had been when she started. And that’s when she could open her retail stores.

Regina rubbed her eyes at 5 pm that Saturday. Yes, all of the work she had put in over the past decade was finally paying off. Attention and coverage in magazines and blogs had grown her business to the place she always dreamed of it being. She yawned.

Finally, a little after 5, she put her Mac to sleep and clicked off all of the lights in her office and went back downstairs. At the moment, there was no one in the shop, but things tended to slow a bit around dinner time. They stayed open until 8:30 on Saturdays, however, to try to catch shoppers - couples, ideally - who were in a good mood after drinks or were out for a post-dinner stroll. 

Belle was artfully arranging a display of black brasseries with a vibrant, almost photo-realistic print of roses on a mirrored table. The shop was sleek and modern; the floors dark polished wood, the walls painted a deep, velvety grey, the lighting arranged to be dim and relaxing, but with lights that specifically shone on the pieces that were for sale, hanging along the walls or displayed on tables. There were candles placed around the store - this year, rose gold was a popular metallic accent, so vases and candleholders sparkled in the creamy-pink glimmering gold throughout the space.

The interior of the shop was like a precious jewelry box both sleek and soft, exactly the way Regina had always imagined a store should look. It was her own little world, her imagination come to life.

“I trust your interview went well earlier?” Belle asked, smiling kindly at Regina. “I didn’t have a chance to ask earlier.”

Regina forced a tired smile. “It did. And how were the customers today?”

“Not too bad,” Belle said. “Sales were quite good, as expected.”

“Henry hasn’t been by yet, has he?” Regina asked.

“Oh, yes, he has. But when he saw you weren’t downstairs yet, he told me that he wanted to try out a donut from the place next door. He said he’d wait for you over there.”

“Oh. Well, I suppose I should go meet him,” Regina said, her heart sinking. She’d have to go back into Emma’s cafe, but with any luck, Emma might have left by now.

She took out her phone and sent him a text, asking him to meet her outside.

As she waited for a response, she adjusted a negligé, which was hanging slightly off-kilter on its silk hanger. She then adjusted a few Christmas ornaments, simple spheres that had been hung artfully through the boutique, her only holiday decorations. 

A customer came in, an older man in a pinstripe suit and a cane. 

“I have everything under control here,” Belle told her gently, tapping her gently on the arm before moving towards the gentleman to ask him if he needed any assistance.

Regina nodded, too tired to argue, and left the shop.

Outside, her temper flared when she saw that Emma had not, in fact, removed the decorations. Instead, she’d actually added to the garish display; covering her windows in what appeared to be a sheet of tiny twinkly lights, and the multicolored white christmas trees creating a miniature winter wonderland on the deck, cheerfully inviting visitors in. 

Despite herself, she had to admit it looked festive. She might even vaguely appreciate it if the place wasn’t neighboring her precious, sleek, minimalist storefront.

She pushed open the door of the shop, and it was not what she'd expected.

Judging from the flamboyant decorations outside, she’d expected sticky chairs and tacky round tables, the smell of cheap coffee and overly glazed donuts. Or, she expected something like the former tenant of the space, Frosty Cupcake Co., whose owner, Mary Margaret, had been sickly-sweet in both disposition and taste as they came. The cupcake shop had not been FORBIDDEN’s ideal neighbor, either; the pastel colors of that shop clashed with the vibe that Regina tried to cultivate for her own shop. She’d been relieved when Mary Margaret decided to close up shop to pursue other interests.

Instead, Swan Song reminded her something she might find in Paris or Brussels; it looked like a coffee shop one might stumble upon in a quant alley, a hidden treasure. Despite her outrage at Emma earlier, Regina couldn't help but feel impressed as she walked in. The floors, booths with small round tables, and the long bar counter were all dark, but that seemed to only offset all of the lighting around the room; everywhere there were bright white modern chandeliers were hanging from the tin ceilings, and tiny, twinkling lights were tastefully strung under the bar, and behind the bar as well, where giant copper coffee machines glistened. All around the walls there were built-in bookshelves containing hundreds of books, photographs and paintings, adding a cosy feeling to the space. It looked vaguely magical, and was actually quite stylish.

Regina immediately located her son sitting at the end of the bar, perched on a high bar stool.

“Here you are,” she said quietly as she slid into a barstool next to him, where he was sitting with a giant mug of what appeared to be hot chocolate - at least she hoped it was, even though Henry was now 13 she still discouraged him from drinking too much caffeine - and a plate with what appeared to be an enormous chocolate frosted donut on it.

“Hey mom.”

“That looks good,” she said, and clutched her stomach as she realized it was growling. She’d only had a small salad for lunch, and that had been hours ago.

“It is,” Henry said.

“Well. Didn’t expect to see you in here,” said a voice, and Regina looked up to see Emma walking towards them.

Regina clenched her jaw. “Ms. Swan, this is my son, Henry.”

Emma smiled at Henry and nodded. “We’ve already met. This guy’s got great taste - donut and hot chocolate with cinnamon. One of my favorite combos, too.”

“It’s great,” Henry said.

“Thanks,” Emma replied, beaming. “So, what can I get for your mom?”

“Nothing. We're going soon,” Regina answered.

“I insist. On the house. Anything you want. We have great pour-over coffee, cappuccino, cafe au lait, a tea collection… and of course, donuts.”

“Do you make the donuts?” Henry asked.

Emma shook her head. “Nope, I’m in charge of coffee, but it’s all I know, aside from keeping a business afloat. My friend Ruby - the one over there - makes the donuts. She learned all kinds of crazy-good recipes from her grandmother.”

“I think I’ll be quite all right,” said Regina, hoping neither of them could hear her stomach as it betrayed her in the delicious-smelling space.

“The kid’s still got a ways to go on his snack - let me at least make you a coffee? On the house. Neighbors always get coffee on the house,” Emma said.

Regina studied Emma suspiciously. They’d stood on the sidewalk fighting hours ago, and now she was cheerfully offering her a coffee? 

She started to take off her black trench coat, resigned. “Cafe au lait, please.”

Emma nodded. “Great choice. Never been to France, but had a French friend who taught me how to make them the right way.”

Henry continued to munch on his donut hole and was thumbing through a comic book. Regina gazed around the room, still impressed by the taste of whomever had designed and decorated it.

“I like what you have done with this place,” Regina said to Emma when Emma presented her with what appeared to be a perfect, milky cup of cafe au lait, deciding to make an effort.

“Thanks,” Emma said.

“It’s better than the last establishment that was here. A cupcake business, with whitewashed walls and crumbling antiques and pastels everywhere. You half-expected to see a unicorn wander in.”

Emma’s face fell. “Oh, well, that was my mother’s place.”

Shit. Just when she was having a civil conversation with this woman - one that made her think she might be able to talk some reason into her about the decorations - she’d ended up insulting her mother.

Regina nervously cleared her throat. “Your mother is Mary Margaret?”

Emma nodded.

Emma was barely 30, and she’d always thought Mary Margaret and her husband Dave were maybe mid-40s. Not exactly over the hill. Only a decade older than Regina. 

“My parents had me young,” Emma added, reading her mind.

“I see,” Regina said. She knew a thing or two about that - Henry had been born when she was in her early 20s; she hadn't been ridiculously young, but younger than when she probably would have chosen to have kids otherwise. If she would have had kids at all, that is. She didn’t exactly have any romantic prospects at the moment, and she was rapidly approaching her 34th birthday.

Regina decided to cover the awkward silence following that comment by taking a sip of the coffee.

And it was divine.

Emma had wandered away to serve another customer who had just sat down at a small round table, so she missed the look of absolute bliss that crossed Regina’s face - her first truly happy expression all day.

The coffee was perfect. The beans were sweet, but deep and rich in flavor. The cafe au last had been prepared the perfect way - with whole milk, which was absolutely sinful, and likely the coffee had been poured into the warm milk and not the other way around. It was the right way to make coffee.

It was the best coffee she’d had since the last time she’d been to Paris.

She savored every moment as Henry munched on his donut and finished his hot cocoa - Regina managed to steal a small bite of the donut. That was good, too, but a little too sweet for her taste.

Emma had disappeared - the cafe was getting busy again with the after-dinner crowd starting to wander in, and a few musicians were getting set up in the back of the cafe. 

She had to get Henry home, though. Mainly because she was exhausted… and so they left before the music began to play (and before Emma could make her way back over to them again). 

She made note to send Belle over to Swan Song next time she was at work and needed coffee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Note updated June 2017*
> 
> Just want to mention that this story is now complete with an epilogue posted in June 2017.
> 
> THANK YOU. Thank you all for your lovely comments. Thank you all for reading. Thank you... even if you just took a peek. It's really amazing to put just a story that I felt like writing out there and then have so much kind and positive feedback in return, 2.5 years later.
> 
> Please note that in June 2017 a published variation of this story was released! The story has been heavily edited and reworked in places, and some elements were changed to differentiate it from the source inspiration. ;) However, the core is still there. If you are interested, head on over to my social media or website.
> 
> You can also find me on:  
> Tumblr: annoragreen.tumblr.com  
> Instagram: @annora_green  
> Twitter: @annoragreen  
> www.annoragreen.com
> 
> More information about the updated print/ebook version is also posted in my notes in the Epilogue.
> 
> Happy reading!


	2. Friction

Regina woke up on Sunday morning and she rolled over, her limbs feeling heavy under her crisp white Egyptian cotton sheets. The day looked cloudy outside her window. She wanted to lay in bed forever.

But running one's own business meant there was always something to do. She dragged herself out of bed, put on her standard uniform: a silk blouse that she'd bought in London a few months ago and some black trousers, and as she was waiting for a large pot of coffee to brew, she stood at her kitchen island, her eyes glued to the screen of her laptop as she scrolled through the sales reports that she didn’t get to yesterday.

Before she could dig her impeccably manicured nails deeper into the reports, however, the doorbell rang.

And thus began a day of unexpected visitors.

“Morning, sis!” A chipper voice rang out. 

Regina’s heart dropped as she saw who was standing on her front porch. 

“Zelena,” she said, uttering the greeting through gritted teeth.

“How’s my dear nephew? Where is he?” her redheaded sister trilled, trotting into the house without waiting to be invited.

“He’s a teenage boy, it’s only 9 on a Sunday… he’s asleep. Coffee?”

“Oh, I don’t drink coffee anymore. Would love some green tea, though. Loose leaf, organic if you have it,” she said, handing Regina her heavy coat and peeling off her leather gloves.

Regina silently walked into the kitchen after Zelena, who was already making herself comfortable at a barstool on the kitchen island, helping herself to one of the apple turnovers Regina had pulled out of the freezer and defrosted on a plate earlier that morning - something she’d made from scratch last month on Thanksgiving weekend for Henry.

Regina filled the kettle for Zelena’s tea. 

“I’ve been so busy,” her sister sighed heavily. 

Regina rolled her eyes, her back to Zelena while she turned on the stove.

Zelena had no job, children, or even hobbies to speak of… other than racking up bills on her credit card and paying them off with the portion of inheritance their father had left to her, blowing through piles of money each week for little to no reason.

“How is the wedding planning going?” Regina asked, making some attempt at civil conversation with her older sister. She had no doubt their conversation would likely end in disaster, as it always did, but she could try.

“Oh, splendidly,” Zelena said, her bright eyes sparkling. “Everything about Walsh is perfection… he is letting me do everything giving me full control on the menu, the wine selection, the music we’ll be dancing to… and of course we booked the Rainbow Terraces, the most exclusive venue in the entire Bay area that has a waitlist of about 3 years… he had a friend who could pull some strings. Then we’re going to Hawaii for the honeymoon! It’s so lovely and green there.”

“Sounds like your perfect match,” Regina grumbled. 

_Poor unfortunate soul who was about to be married to her lunatic of a sister,_ she thought to herself.

“He is a delight,” Zelena cooed, clasping her hands dramatically to her chest as Regina set a steaming cup of green tea in front of her. “So handsome, so darling. I will treasure him forever and ever.”

“He sounds more like a prize than a partner,” Regina couldn’t help but point out.

She giggled. “Well, maybe he is. Nothing wrong with a little eye - and arm - candy, is there? So, sis. Enough about me. How’s your love life these days?”

Regina sat down on the barstool next to her sister, and, frowning, cradled her hot coffee in one hand while reaching for an apple turnover with the other.

“It’s not looking like much of anything, but that’s because I’m drowning in work,” she said simply.

Zelena tsk-tsked. “So sad all you do is wrap yourself up into that silly little business. Haven’t you made enough money to retire yet?”

Regina sighed. “I’m 34. Not 64. And no, I’d rather not quit my career and drain my life savings and inheritance in my 30s.”

“Oh, but it’s so much fun,” Zelena said, eyes wide, feigning concern. “I’m also worried you won’t have a date to my wedding. What a shame that would be, so many romantic couples swirling around in the ballroom, and you all alone, off to the side… sad, really.”

Regina made a sour face. Zelena’s wedding wasn’t even until the spring. 

“I have time,” she grumbled. “I’ll find someone. Don’t worry, I won’t embarrass you by showing up without a date to your precious wedding.”

“I’d hate to have to set you up with Cousin Claude,” she said, her eyes flashing mischievously.

“That won’t happen,” Regina said, unamused by the prospect.

“All right, if you say so. But let me know if you need any help in that department. I know lots of people…” she laughed, her eyes unfocused, clearly thinking of something else.

Regina chewed her turnover.

“What about Henry? Will he have a date?” Zelena asked.

“Over my dead body,” said Regina, rolling her eyes.

+

Henry finally made his way downstairs just before 11, and Regina sat with him while he ate his turnover and freshly squeezed orange-pineapple-kale juice - his favorite combination of her health drink repertoire. After breakfast, Henry left to hang out with some friends and visit the comic book store, and Regina decided it was an opportune time to stop by FORBIDDEN.

She didn’t make a habit of going to the store or the studio on Sunday, but this was a busy season, after all, and her assistant manager, Sidney, was going to be managing things today while Belle, who had been working six days a week all month long, had a well-deserved day off. She had a few things she wanted to discuss with Sidney about some post-Christmas events and today would be her chance to iron out those details.

But as she approached her store, she noticed the spectacle outside of Swan Song and forgot all about her plans.

Outside the cafe, there were now tables and chairs. A few of the inflatable decorations had been taken down; only, they’d been replaced with a live fiddle player, someone playing what appeared to be a ukulele, and a singer that was brooding moodily. 

Regina swore under her breath as she observed the scene.

She stormed into the cafe, her eyes adjusting slowly to the dark interior, searching for Emma. The smell of delicious, fresh, perfect coffee hit her like a ton of bricks, but she forced herself to ignore it.

“Is Emma around?” She asked the waitress who supposedly made the homemade donuts - Ruby, was it? - who was setting a latte down at a customer’s table.

“Yeah, she is. Anything in particular you need?” Ruby asked, a hand on a hip and narrowing eyes that were coated with mascara and slick black eyeliner.

“I need to talk to her,” Regina said.

The woman raised her eyebrows, wiped her hand on the tiny apron she wore over her skirt and told her to hang on a minute.

Regina went up to the bar and sat on one of the stools. Why did everything have to smell - and look - so good in here? She wanted to ignore the place altogether in hopes it would go out of business, but unfortunately, glancing around, it looked like today was even more crowded than yesterday had been. Every table was filled, and many of the barstools were occupied by patrons sipping and munching on fragrant treats, looking content and well-caffeinated.

“Regina. You’re back,” said Emma, stepping up toward her behind the counter. “What can I get you today?”

  “An explanation for why you decided to have that ridiculous and noisy spectacle outside, on the sidewalk, destroying our peace.”

Emma crossed her arms. “It’s a business decision. I put a few tables out there, figured if I looked happening outside, people would want to come in and check things out inside. And in case you are wondering, I spoke with Archie of the Retail and Commercial Association and got all of the details on what I can and cannot do. I _did_ discover I was not supposed to have inflatable decorations, so thanks for your warning, and you might notice they’re gone now. I also learned that other things I’ve got out there are totally acceptable. Also, live music during certain hours of the day is also permitted. I got it all 100% approved by Archie himself. So I’m all set. I did my homework. Check with anyone.”

Regina’s jaw clenched as she studied the woman. “Why are you so insistent on disrupting the peace around here, Emma? Can’t you just have a quiet cafe and leave it at that?”

“I’m not disrupting anything. I’m running what I hope will be a successful business, just like you. And like I said, everything has - as of now - been approved by the right people. So if you have a problem with it… well, you’re welcome to ignore me and that offer of free coffee."

“You can be sure I want nothing to do with your coffee,” Regina said.

“I’ve got customers to serve. Talk to you later. Or not,” Emma snapped, walking away.

“Goodbye, Ms. Swan,” Regina replied, slid off the barstool, and without a backwards glance, left.

+

Between the early morning visit from Zelena and the bedlam that was having Swan Song as a neighboring business, Regina was regretting having given up smoking a year prior as she stepped into her sleek shop moments later.

Behind the counter was Sidney, politely answering questions from a woman who Regina recognized as a regular customer.

Sidney was an excellent manager, nearly as good as Belle. The only drawback with him was that he was a bit awkward and at times glib behind the scenes. He had a penchant for bringing up strange topics with coworkers, everything from tales of his mother, to what type of women he liked to date, to the occasional, dreaded, thinly-veiled suggestions that he and Regina go out sometime.

She ignored his passes, knowing that the same lack of reservation was what made him so good with customers on the floor (he didn't, mercifully, bring up awkward topics with clients or the public). On top of it, he was efficient and creative, and he’d offered many helpful suggestions for better connecting with her clientele that she’d implemented in the past year, like exclusive sales events and evening soirees for her most loyal customers. 

So she kept him around as the benefits far outweighed the drawbacks, and gritted her teeth and dealt with it when, once again, that afternoon he brought up the topic of a new restaurant.

“It’s Japanese fusion. Delicious, healthy, a well-known chef. It was reviewed in the newspaper and got top marks,” he said.

“Did it?” Regina asked, hoping her lack of interest carried through in her tone. She knew where this was going.

“Yes," Sidney said, once again not picking up the hint. He never got the hint. 

"So, if you want to step out and want to try it at lunch sometime, perhaps next week…” he said as Regina busily arranged a new display of bras in a back corner of the shop.

“I’ll keep it in mind, Sidney,” she said vaguely. “Now, would you mind going upstairs to get that box of silk robes for me, please?”

+

On Monday, Regina arrived at work and found that the display in front of Emma’s cafe has toned down ever so slightly. No live musicians, and the obnoxious inflatable decorations that she had removed were still gone, and still not replaced with anything that, to Regina’s chagrin, should make the Retail Association overly upset.

She had combed through her sales reports the afternoon prior, and had been sent a link to an extremely influential fashion blog that had praised her winter line, and so was in a generally good mood as she greeted Belle, who was just opening up the shop for the day, and went upstairs.

Her mood dampened slightly when she noted that their coffee machine was still producing terrible coffee. Then, she turned on the computer to find that she had an email reply from the Retail Association, stating that her grievances with Swan Song could be settled that evening at the Monday night town meeting.

Regina almost felt like telling the Retail Association to drop the issue until after the holidays. She really was busy, she reasoned. Emma's little spectacle had been a nuisance all weekend long, but things seemed quiet this morning. She had more things to do than to battle a blonde barista.

Before she could reply to the message, she was interrupted. First, by Belle, who had some things to go over with her about holiday schedules and an event that Sidney was coordinating to encourage shopping between Christmas and New Year's Day. She was also brainstorming ways to drum up hype for Valentine’s Day as soon as they got into January. And, she needed approvals on several custom orders that had come in over the weekend.

The second time she thought about writing the email, she realized she had another headache coming on… this one likely caused by the lack of a decent cup of coffee all morning. But when she went into the studio to ask anyone if they’d be willing to run down to Swan Song to get coffee to go for all of them, she was bombarded with questions from her designer and tailor about custom orders and work on upcoming collections. 

The coffee was quickly forgotten.

By the time she was finished, lunchtime had come and gone and it was only her growling stomach that reminded her it was time to go across the street to White Rabbit Salads for her usual kale, pomegranate and Meyer lemon detox salad.

She stepped outside, and out of habit, glanced towards Emma’s cafe. Out front, there were several people sitting on the bistro tables perched in front of the cafe, but today, there was a new attraction - Ruby.

Ruby was standing outside in decidedly non-daytime attire and handing out samples of coffee and wedges of donuts, along with tiny slips of paper.

Regina stood still, observing her like a hawk might study its prey before swooping in for an attack. She didn’t really have a problem with Ruby’s skimpy outfit… it wasn’t like she’d have a problem with that sort of thing. People could wear whatever they wanted to wear. But the spectacle of it all felt so cheap, Ruby clearly positioned outside of the cafe with the intent of catching the attention of any and all passers-by and infringing too much on the overall public space. 

It was a mess.

Regina forgot about the salad and gnawing hunger in her stomach and blew right past Ruby, pushing her way through the doors and entering the cafe.

And then it hit her.

She’d had too little to eat so far that day, and finding herself surrounded by the luscious aroma of fresh coffee, donuts, warm, yeasty cinnamon bread made her head spin.

Her stomach nearly betrayed her, until she saw the object of her annoyance.

“Do you have a permit for handing out food samples on the sidewalk?” Regina demanded, not giving Emma the space to get a word in first.

“A… what? Come on,” Emma said, leaning on the bar. “How and why would a permit be necessary to hand out free samples to pedestrians right in front of my shop? Right where they’re all already sitting and ordering food anyways? Look, Ruby is practically in the doorway."

“A permit is needed to hand out food samples to the general public,” Regina stated firmly.

Even as she said it, she knew she was exaggerating. Street vendors couldn’t sell food without a permit. A free sample was hardly the same as a street vendor, and she knew that typically, no one would bat an eye at a barista handing out free samples in front of a cafe.

But these were not normal circumstances. This woman was starting to _seriously_ irritate her. This Emma had to be stopped.

“What is your problem? Seriously? Tell me? Do you just, really hate coffee, or what? Were you some stuffy bureaucrat in another life? How'd you get like this?” Emma said, her cheeks turning slightly red as she leered at Regina.

“I love coffee. I don’t like petulant coffee shop owners who march into town and think they can own the place, change the entire tone of a street where many businesses have worked hard to establish themselves for-“

“Look around,” Emma said, interrupting her. “Does this look like some shitty, half-assed establishment that’s driving the quality of this hoity-toity street down? Really?”

“I should hope it’s not,” said a familiar, velvety voice behind Regina.

“Mal?” Regina sucked in a breath, instantly realizing who the voice belonged to. “What are you doing here?”

Mal smiled vaguely at her in her deliciously tall, confident, steady way, wearing a pinstripe suit and fedora, looking ever-so slightly like a modern iteration of Annie Hall.

“You two know each other?” Emma asked.

“We do,” Mal said, her eyes still trained on Regina, studying her.

Regina's entire disposition changed in the woman's presence. She calmed down, dropped her gaze slightly. 

“It’s good to see you,” she said, smiling.

Mal didn't react, instead sitting down on a stool at the bar. Regina, always slightly enchanted by the woman when in her presence, felt the pull to sit beside her, the altercation with Emma temporarily forgotten.

“Mal’s the one who helped me make sure this establishment didn't look cheap or uninviting,” Emma said gently, working at the espresso machine as she talked. “She’s an interior designer. The one I hired for this place.”

Emma passed Mal a small cup of espresso. Mal took it, nodding a thanks and raised it to her ruby-red lips.

“I didn’t know you’d gone back to work,” Regina said, raising an eyebrow.

“I’ve been doing a few projects here and there,” Mal said vaguely, taking another sip of the liquid. 

Then she looked at Emma.

“Now why is it that you two are arguing? What kind of drama did I just step into?” Mal asked in a bored tone.

“Regina’s not thrilled with some of my marketing tactics,” Emma said.

“Right, because this isn’t some car wash where you can just send your leggiest employee out on the sidewalk to wave people in,” Regina snapped.

“Nice,” muttered Emma sarcastically.

“Regina has a flair for drama,” Mal said to Emma. “Regina, dear, it’s just a cafe. Not exactly threatening your corner of the market. And most of your business is online, anyways.”

“It’s the principle,” Regina protested. “What is so wrong with me wanting to maintain the integrity of this street? This town? And by the way, Emma, you might want to show up at the town meeting tonight.”

“Why?” 

“We’re going to discuss your place in Story Brooke, and the potential obstruction of business your cafe has caused on this street so far, and your responsibilities moving forward…”

“Her responsibility is to make delicious coffee,” Mal said, sipping from her cup and smiling condescendingly toward Regina. “What kind of chip is on your shoulder now, dear, to make you so testy about a little bit of coffee?”

Regina ignored the question.

“You both are impossible,” she said, getting up to leave.

Mal and Emma watched her go, then Mal turned to Emma. “You should be careful, you know. Regina’s got some powerful connections. If you want to stay in business, you might want to get in her good graces. It’s better than being on the other side… trust me.”

+

After perusing the rather barebones Story Brooke website for any and all information about what Emma was starting to believe was a shockingly regulated and regimented town for retailers and restauranteurs, she left Ruby in charge of closing the cafe so she could duck out early to see what this Monday night town council meeting was all about. 

Town council meeting. 

It sounded like something from a precious sitcom, or a Mark Twain novel.

She was craving french fries, and promised herself she’d stop by a diner that she liked just off the highway after work. It’s where her barista, Lily, moonlighted on weekends - her family had owned the joint for generations - and they had the absolute best fries in the entire state, she was sure. Freshly cut from an actual potato, fried to a golden crisp, served piping hot…

The Story Brooke town council meeting took place in not a town hall but a small office a few streets away from Swan Song. She arrived at 6:50, and a small crowd - though larger than she would’ve predicted for a Monday night - had already assembled on the folding chairs that had been arranged in the musty-smelling room.

Regina was sitting at a small table at the head of the room along with two others, an older woman who looked vaguely like her, and a clean-shaven, tall, all-American looking guy. 

Emma took a seat off to the side, next to a table that was stacked with piles of file folders and what appeared to be brochures on one side, and an older man seated on her other side.

“Good evening, everyone,” a man with a scruffy beard and a slight British lilt said, stepping up to the lectern and dimming the room’s lights slightly so everyone could see the PowerPoint on a screen behind him. “If I could have your attention please, we’ll get this meeting started and I’ll explain our agenda…”

Emma stifled yawn after yawn while some sort of road proposal was discussed, the type of bio-fuel used in the buses was explained, noise curfews were loudly debated, and letters were read from various constituents - most of which needed serious proofreading and made little to no sense at all.

Emma wondered if Regina had simply made a few empty threats. There was nothing at all mentioned about or even vaguely related to her cafe, and she’d been sitting there for over an hour. 

“And finally, as always we will conclude with a word from our Mayor, who will also take questions and address any concerns from the public,” the scruffy-beard guy said. “Madam Mayor?”

Regina stood up from the table, smiled politely, and took his place at the lectern.

Emma’s stomach sank. 

“Thank you, Mr. Humbert,” she said, smiling sweetly. “And thank you all for being here this evening-“

“She’s the mayor?” Emma whispered to an older man who was seated next to her.

He nodded, and replying in a thick Italian accent, “Yes, of course, Mayor Mills.”

“But she’s… she also runs a company, right? She has a job,” Emma whispered back.

“Story Brooke is small. We are only 5,000 people. Mayor is not a full time job here. I bet she’s paid very little for the job. She ran a few years ago after her mother’s term was up… her whole family’s in politics.”

 “A family of politicians?” Emma asked, raising her eyebrows. Now Mal’s warning was starting to make a little more sense.

The man nodded.

Emma focused back on Regina, who was confidently delivering a speech about community and organization and something that she wasn’t quite following. Emma sat up straight, on high alert. Was she going to take out her grief on Swan Song here, in front of everyone? A few minutes later and…

“We all understand the importance of maintaining order, beauty and harmony on our streets,” she said, pausing as two people applauded. 

Someone else coughed, and a phone rang.

_Great,_ Emma thought.

“Therefore, I would like to propose new amendments to the downtown code that will gently enforce stricter requirements - and penalties - to retailers who infringe upon the public space of the sidewalks, or in any way negatively impact the environment or overall beauty and serenity of our downtown streets and pedestrian shopping district…” 

The presentation on the screen behind her switched over to a new slide, where a list of about 20 items was displayed in small print. Emma squinted and tried to read them as quickly as she could. Around her, people shifted in their seats, impatient.

“Does anyone oppose any of these new guidelines? I’m sure we can all agree that we want to keep our shopping street as upscale and orderly as possible. I know we want to maintain Story Brooke's reputation for a quality, curated selection of retail stores and restaurants and a pleasant, quiet and calm environment.”

Silence. Then another cough.

“Well then, I’m sure we are all eager to get home after a long day of work. I put it to the town council for a vote,” she said, turning to the table of individuals seated off to the side.

“I object,” Emma called out, jumping to her feet.

Regina - along with most of the others in the room - turned to face her.

 “Ah, hi," Emma said, glancing around the room. "Yeah, I think we should all read that over before anyone votes on it. I see some things I’m not so sure about, like-“

“Like what, Ms. Swan?”

“Like the fact you can barely read anything on that screen. I think we all have a right to know what these new ‘guidelines’ are, uh, Madam Mayor. Especially the business owners that this will impact.”

Regina pursed her lips. “Do you have any specific concerns that you would like to share with us here tonight?”

“Yeah, I have some concerns. But first I need to read this stuff over before voicing them. Can’t you vote on this next week?”

“Ms. Swan, I believe this is a simple matter. There’s very little to debate, or understand here. It’s merely to ensure that shoppers and business owners alike are protected and..."

“Can you at least hold off on voting, so we can see for ourselves?” Emma pleaded.

“Ms. Swan, please. That seems like a waste of time,” Regina laughed.

“You can wait one week, what’s the problem with that?” The old man piped up from the seat next to her.

Regina paused, pursing her lips.

“The problem is we don’t have another meeting until after the holidays. It will be more like three weeks from tonight, and I am sure that everyone will agree that it would be best to push this through so we can all forget about this business and enjoy the holiday…”

“I think you should let us read it, and we'll let you know if we have any problems with it in the next meeting,” said a redheaded woman who Emma thought ran the seafood restaurant down the street from her cafe.

Regina raised her eyebrows and shifted at the podium, clearly growing more uncomfortable with the restless crowd. She glanced over at the table where the members of the council were seated, who nodded at her. 

“If you insist,” she finally conceded to the crowd with a faux-smile. “And now, I believe that concludes tonight's meeting." 

The scruffy-beard man returned to the podium. "Have a good holiday, and we’ll look at this at our next meeting in January," he said as everyone was standing up to leave.

As Emma followed the small crowd out of the room, she felt Regina’s eyes on her. She glanced at Regina just as she left. 

The woman was clearly irritated.

_Good,_ Emma thought to herself, smirking. Regina Mills did not seem like the type who was used to being challenged too often. _Let her worry that she might not get her way for once._

+

Regina was pulling on a long black trench coat and gathering her things in the corner of the room, politely saying goodbye to the Council and glancing at the notifications on her phone.

“Well that was an interesting meeting,” said one of the town council members, Graham. He scratched his scruffy chin, and Regina flinched slightly.

“It was,” she replied, putting some documents into her purse.

“The barista is an irritating one, isn’t she?”

“Indeed. But I don’t mind a healthy debate,” Regina said.

Graham studied her, and pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket. “Want one?”

“No. You know I stopped for good months ago.”

He raised his eyebrows. “What a bore.”

“Remember to smoke those at least 9 feet away from any public building to meet city code.”

"You liked it," he said.

“I liked what?” Regina snapped.

“The barista. Emma. Someone stood up to you, fought you, and you enjoyed it.”

Regina glared. “That's ridiculous. She’s a nuisance.”

He raised his eyebrows again. “Sure. You like a challenge. You don’t like things that are handed to you, Madam Mayor. You like to…fight for them.”

Regina laughed. “Whatever you say, Graham.”

He chuckled. “Care to grab a coffee on the way out?”

Regina continued to arrange the papers in her bag. “I’m not exactly in the mood for coffee."

She knew Graham wasn’t asking for coffee. Probably. How she ever ended up in a fling with him last year, she’ll never understand… the man was too young, aloof, and… quite honestly, dull.. for her. He was a little dalliance, nothing more. Every once in a while since they’d stopped months ago, he’d drop a subtle hint that he would be game for another go, but she had resolved that she was beyond that particular part of her life.

Thankfully, he was good at taking no for an answer. This time, he simply shrugged.

“Fine. And I rest my case.”

“What are you talking about?” she asked.

He shrugged, put on his jacket, jammed the unlit cigarette in his mouth, and left.

With everyone finally out of the room, Regina clicked off the lights and locked up. 

Henry would be waiting for her at home. She felt a pang of guilt as she realized she hadn’t cooked dinner in a while, and was about to stop at the store for take-out salads, soups and grilled chicken. Another non-homemade meal.

There were so many hours in the day, she thought, driving her black Mercedes home after picking up the food. As she pulled into the driveway, she saw her phone screen light up with an incoming text. She looked to see if it was Henry, but instead, it was Zelena. 

Nice seeing you yesterday, sis. Only 5 months ’til my wedding. Don’t forget… you don’t want to go with Cousin Claude. 

She followed up with a saccharine photo of her being kissed on the face with her insipid fiance. 

Regina threw her phone into her bag, and went inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all of your support on chapter 1! I didn't really expect anyone to give the first chapter of a fic by an unknown author a second glance, so it was a pleasant surprise. I wanted to get chapter 2 up sooner, but I took a bit of time to make sure I had more of the big picture worked out before moving forward. Hope you enjoy!


	3. Forgone

In January, the weather turned cool - or as cool as California is ever likely to get in winter - and despite Emma's efforts at pleading her case, the town passes Regina’s ridiculous tighter restrictions on cafes, restaurants, and retail stores in downtown Story Brooke. Ridiculous things like no live music without a special permit, or a maximum of 2 small bistro-size tables outside of a storefront.

“What a bitch,” Ruby comments the morning after the restrictions, as she helps Emma put away the extra tables she had on the sidewalk in front of Swan Song.

Emma just shrugged.

Regina was a real piece of work, no doubt about it. But she’d wasted enough energy on her. 

Emma quietly complied, because it doesn’t matter to her much anyways. Maybe if she gives the woman this victory, she’ll finally leave her alone to run her cafe in peace. 

Aside from Regina’s harassment, so far, business is good. The location itself is perfect, there’s no other coffee shop within the small area downtown where there’s a lot of pedestrian traffic. The other quaint storefronts and restaurants seem to successfully attract couples who are on a day trip or on a romantic weekend. Her cafe proves to be the perfect stop, a caffeine fix for those who need a quick, mid-shopping spree pick-me-up, or those seeking an indulgent snack on a lazy Sunday afternoon.

Emma didn’t cross paths with Regina again after the town meeting when the new restrictions were passed. Regina seemed to lurk in her store for long hours, if the amount of time Henry spent reading or playing his Gameboy and eating donuts or drinking hot chocolate in a corner booth of Swan Song was any indication. He liked to stop in after school and buy a donut or pastry of some sort, or he ordered hot chocolate and read his comic book before meeting his mom after she was done with work. Emma always asked him what he was reading - she didn’t know a lot about comics, but she was entertained as he told her synopses of the complex plots and the heroes’ superpowers.

“Maybe she’ll eventually go out of business,” Ruby said to Emma, wiping off the counter in front of the espresso machine. 

“Not likely. Most of her business is from online sales, and her studio is upstairs. I guess she just keeps the storefront for fun,” Emma says.

“Have you been in there?”

Emma shook her head. “Nope. I like the look of lingerie better than the actual act of shopping for it. Or wearing it. Ugh, give me a tank top and some leggings any day. Way too fussy.”

“I’ve been in. Her stuff is nice. Really. Very nice. Though expensive, not exactly something my budget can handle,” Ruby laughed. “The store feels kind of stuffy, though. She’s very into the sleek black and minimalism thing. Not really a welcoming place I’d spend a lot of time in.”

“Hm,” Emma said, not very interested. “Maybe she’ll eventually move the store someplace else. Seems like the kind of shop that should be in LA, or downtown San Francisco. Not out here in a little resort community for Silicon Valley types.”

Ruby shrugged. “I do my part. I sometimes throw cigarette butts in the planters outside the windows of her store.”

Emma smirked. “As your employer, I should probably tell you not to. But I’ll turn a blind eye to it.”

+

The dust that Regina’s hectic schedule had kicked up before the holidays finally settled again in January. After claiming a small victory over the blonde next door, Regina was content as she went back to work, the sidewalk and storefront next door practically restored to its former peaceful self, just the way she liked it. Calm, serene, elegant, free of surprises, disruptions or flamboyant displays.

Regina could get back into her routine: working with her designers, having web conferences with the person in New York that she’d hired to drum up publicity for her brand, meeting with buyers, driving to cocktails where she could network with the industry, fussing over her online shop and her boutique downstairs. And with the few leftover hours she had a week, she caught up on paperwork for her mayoral duties and tried to converse with Henry, who seemed far more engrossed with his video games than telling her about school.

Just as she was settling into her comfortable everyday schedule, something rather uncomfortable happened.

She arrived at work one Tuesday about a half hour later than normal; she hated to be late, but she’d had an early conference call with New York and opted to finish the call at home before coming in. She’d ignored a few calls so she could have time to go out of her way to one of her favorite coffee stops before tackling a day that she had filled with meetings, conference calls and even an interview with a magazine, but she was forced out of her security when she pulled into a parking space across the street from her shop and saw Belle standing outside with two cops.

“What’s going on?” Regina called, half-running across the street.

“Oh, here’s my boss now-“ she heard Belle say, a slight look of relief crossing over her face.

“What happened?” Regina asked the two cops.

“There was a break-in early this morning, ma’am.”

One of the cops stepped aside so she could see - a window was broken. The other cop was taping it up.

“How did this happen?”

“Someone decided to break in. Your security company called us, and when we arrived on scene there was no one in sight. Do you have cameras?”

Regina shook her head. “I don’t.”

“Well, I’m afraid it’s unlikely we’ll catch the culprit - this area’s pretty sleepy early in the morning, but we’ll ask around to see if anyone saw anything suspicious. Good thing your security system was in good shape, though. Belle said she didn’t think much was missing - but let’s go in and look around together, before we finalize the report?”

Regina swallowed, barely hearing anything the cop was saying. Her throat felt dry, but she’d left the coffee in her car when she saw the police standing outside, and it felt silly now to go back to get it. She followed Belle and the cops inside to look around.

Later that morning, Regina has just gotten off the phone with the insurance company about the window and was still downstairs in the shop with Belle. There were very few customers that morning, thankfully, and Kathryn, who worked upstairs as one of Regina’s designers and seamstresses, was creative enough to found a sheet of plywood, paint it black, and position it over the broken window in such a way that wasn’t too obvious it was covering up a, well, broken window.

Regina noticed out of the corner of her eye, as she typed in a memo on her phone, that a man she’d seen in the boutique a couple of times before was coming in. He walked straight towards Belle, and she smiled warmly as soon as she saw him.

“Everything all right now, Belle?” Regina heard the man ask.

Belle nodded. “It is now. Regina showed up only a few minutes after I did, I’m sorry I called you, I just panicked -“

“It’s nothing,” the man said.

Belle tore her blue eyes away from the man to glance over at Regina. 

“Regina?” She called out hesitantly. “If you have a moment, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

Regina looked up from her phone and walked over. “Yes?”

“Regina, this is Rum - erm, Mr. Gold. He’s a good friend of mine,” she said, smiling again, her eyes sparkling as she looked over at him.

Regina gave Belle a curious look, then smiled a professional smile and shook hands with the man, who, for a Tuesday morning, was slightly over-dressed in a dark suit. 

“I believe I’ve seen you in the shop before,” Regina said. 

“You probably have,” the man said, his voice slow, gravelly, measured. 

He was quite a bit older than either Regina or Belle. In his mid-fifties, likely. So. Belle had a bit of a May-December romance going on, then. 

The man made Regina slightly nervous, though she didn’t know why. It was rare for her to be intimidated by anyone, but this man was slightly imposing, despite his relatively short stature. The way he looked at her - studied her - he seemed like he was hiding something. That he had secrets.

“I trust you’ve found what you are looking for here?” Regina asked.

The man looked at Belle, and a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Oh, indeed I have.”

Regina felt her cheeks flush. Well. She walked right into that one.

“Good,” she said, ignoring the comment. “Excuse me, but I have to get back to work upstairs. I’m sure Belle will help you with anything you need today.”

Mr. Gold nodded. “I’m sure she will.”

Hm. Poor choice of words, she thought to herself.

Regina didn’t keep track of how long Mr. Gold stayed at the shop, but it was a good while after she’d gone upstairs. She was pacing around her office, trying to sort out how to reply to an email, when she caught a glimpse of Belle and Gold, outside on the sidewalk, Belle giggling as Gold said something to her. They shared a kiss that was just long enough to not be entirely innocent, and held hands briefly before Gold wandered away down the sidewalk and Belle went back into the boutique.

A little while later, Regina passed through the shop on her way out for lunch. Mr. Gold had left, and there were no customers at the moment. She went up to Belle behind the counter.  “Everything all right down here?”

Belle nodded and smiled. “It is. And I don’t think anyone’s noticed the broken window. Oh - the person the insurance company arranged to repair the window called and said they’d come tomorrow.”

Regina nodded. “Good. Although one person seemed to notice this morning’s incident. Your… friend. Mr. Gold.”

Belle flushed slightly. “Right. Sorry… if that was awkward at all. He’s a good friend of mine. I called him, in a panic, right before you arrived this morning, after I saw the broken window and the cops.”

“A good friend?” Regina pressed, observing Belle as she nervously played with a pen. “He seemed like a little more than a good friend.”

Belle shifted uncomfortably and blushed a bit more, her shoulders stiff. “I… well, yes. I think we are, at this point. I’m sorry he comes in so much while I’m working, he’s in investing, but has a fair bit of down time during the day.”

“Oh, I don’t mind,” Regina said, waving it off. “Just as long as he isn’t bothering you at work.”

Belle nodded. “He does purchase things,” she added quickly.

Regina raised her eyebrows. “Does he? I wonder what for…”

Belle, not one to giggle and gossip all about her personal life, pretended to suddenly be very interested in the message that popped up on the screen of the tablet that they used for transactions.

“Well then. I’m going to lunch,” Regina announced, bored with goading Belle on the matter.

+

Emma accepted a shipment of coffee beans around 12:30pm, and returned from the back to find Ruby talking to Regina.

_What now_ , she thought to herself.

Emma wiped her hands on her pants and walked over to the two. “Can I help you?” she asked.

Regina turned to her, studying her briefly, a moment in which Emma felt suddenly self-conscious in her jeans and plain white sweater next to the polished woman who was wearing what appeared to be head-to-toe designer.

“Someone broke my front window this morning, probably in an attempt to rob my store - they didn’t seem to be aware that I would have a security system, so they were unsuccessful.”

“Oh - well, I’m sorry to hear that.” Emma said.

“I was wondering if you knew anything about it? If you’ve seen anything suspicious around, or have had any problems of your own with vandalism?” asked Regina.

Emma shook her head. “No, I haven’t seen anything out of the ordinary. But I’ll keep my eyes open.”

Regina studied Emma for a few seconds too long. 

Emma shifted uncomfortably. “Is there anything else I can do for you?” she asked, crossing her arms.

“No,” Regina said, pursing her lips. 

She turned to walk out, and ran into a tall woman who was wearing a long black coat and killer heels. Long, wavy blonde hair was done up in an elaborate style. 

She looked like a femme fatale, from some 1920s Hollywood flick.

“Mal,” Regina said, her voice cracking, looking up at the imposing woman. 

“Hello, Regina,” the woman responded.

“We’re running into each other a lot,” Regina stated.

“So it seems,” the woman said, peeling off her gloves and glancing over at Ruby behind the counter. 

“I was just going to lunch someplace nearby. Care to join me?” Regina asked.

“I can’t now,” Mal said.

“Another time? Tomorrow, perhaps?” Regina pressed. “Lunch, or dinner?”

Mal considered the invitation for a few seconds. “I could do dinner tomorrow,” she said simply.

“What time?”

“8:30?” Mal suggested.

“That’s late,” Regina said, more to herself than to Mal.

“Oh?” Mal said in a sassy tone. “Do you need to eat at an early hour these days?” 

Regina smiled. There was the old Mal she knew. Snarky. Sassy.

“You would know,” she retorted.

Mal ignored the comment.

“8:30 is fine,” Regina said quickly, before the woman could change her mind. “Meet me at The Grotto. It’s a seafood restaurant a few doors down.”

“See you then,” Mal said.

+

Regina lost track of how many times she changed her clothes the next evening. 

She’d made a quick dinner for Henry after work - leftover lasagna pulled out of the freezer, a salad, some fruit for dessert - and then sent him up to his room to do his homework. Meanwhile, she sorted through things in her closet, debating what to wear. Pants, skirt, dress? Scarf, no scarf? Keep it simple and stick to her favorite color - black - or go with something bolder, like red? A deep eggplant purple? She couldn’t decide. And then, she felt ridiculous, sorting through her clothes like a high schooler going on a date. This wasn’t a date. Not at all. Just two friends catching up. Two old friends catching up. Two old… well, more than friends… catching up.

It was ridiculous how nervous she felt when it came to Mal.

In the end, she decided on a simple black shift dress, a stylish leather jacket that was cut just right for her and draped in a soft waterfall in the front.

“You look nice,” Henry observed when Regina went into his room to say goodbye for the evening and remind him that he had to go to bed by 11, no exceptions, although she would try to be back by then or soon after.

“Got it, mom,” Henry said, rolling his eyes. 

It struck her how old he was - how he had his own life, how he didn’t really need her to remind him to go to bed. It was, after all, ultimately up to him if he wanted to feel miserable at school the next day or not if he didn't get enough sleep. Henry was becoming his own person now, for real. He was rapidly leaving his childhood… and, Regina feared, the day when he’d leave home, and leave her, was probably drawing closer. She knew she still had a few years with him at home, but he was so grown up, and then after he left… well, this house. It would be so big without him.

She shook her head, trying hard not to think of that right now. The last thing she needed to do at a dinner that she was already nervous about was to worry about Henry.

“I’ll be home as soon as I can,” she promised before heading out into the night.

+

She’d met Mal at design school. In a series of courses she’d taken during her master’s studies. 

She had been 21 at the time. Young, foolish. Naive. Miserable.

She’d just come out of a terrible relationship. Only a couple of years prior, her mother, Cora, had forced her to break up with her high school sweetheart, Daniel, saying that the boy who’d been the kindest, sweetest man she’d ever known, was not wealthy enough, not from a background worthy of her. Only 18 at the time, Regina let Cora talk her out of that relationship, and Daniel moved on without her… to another state, into the arms of someone else, a woman with whom he’d eventually marry and have children.

Meanwhile, as Regina started her first semester of college, Cora set her up with a young man named Leopold. Someone with an Ivy League background, the heir to some big business. Someone who, Cora felt, was worthy of her daughter’s time and attention.

How wrong her mother had been. Leopold was everything that a good man wasn’t: arrogant, aloof, disrespectful of her thoughts, feelings and wants and needs. He felt he could throw endless gifts and money her way, take her out to extravagant parties and affairs, and that Regina would be perfectly content. She was a mere decoration for him, someone who only had to be maintained with gifts or impressive shows of his wealth. He even encouraged her to leave school at one point, saying it didn’t matter if she was smart.

Regina, still desperate for her mother’s approval at the time - and seeing that both her mother and her sister sought after men of means, who could give them luxuries, and were happy doing so - felt like she was obligated to give Leopold a good chance. As a result, she gave him too much time. She went out with him the better part of her college years. Finally, a week before her 21st birthday and during her last year of school, she broke up with him, and never looked back.

She was over relationships, she’d decided. She’d had enough. She chose school over any more attempts at a relationship, and made plans to go to grad school and have a vibrant career. And then… on her 21st birthday, she saw one of her professors, a young woman who went by the name of Mal, looking miserable and alone at a bar. 

Regina knew what that was like. A few friends had insisted on accompanying her to a club to get drinks on the occasion of her 21st, but Regina quickly grew bored of drinking that evening (Leopold used to drink a lot of fine liquors, and therefore alcohol, with the exception of wine and cider, which he never touched, had already lost its appeal to her). As her friends sipped on their drinks and grew more enamored with the men around them, drifting away to go dance with them, or fish for information and phone numbers, Regina felt lonely and impatient... and found her eyes kept going back to Mal.

The woman was alone, her long, blonde hair falling around her shoulders in a mass. She was sad, nursing a single drink. Finally, when her friends had been absent from their table for long enough, Regina picked up her still-half full drink and approached the woman at the bar.

“My friends left me for some guys they just met,” Regina said grimly. “Mind if I join you?”

Mal looked up. “Do I know you?”

“I’m in one of your classes.”

The woman took a sip and studied her with darkly-lined eyes, and motioned for her to sit.

The night passed, and the two women didn’t talk much. They drank, slowly. Exchanged pleasantries at first, then snide and snarky comments about the foolish people surrounding them. Observing and judging the social intercourse as couples flirted, broke away from groups of friends to disappear onto the dance floor or disappear into some dark corner somewhere. When Regina’s "friends" never returned, she followed Mal out of the club as if pulled by an invisible string, trailing her back to a large, but very dark and empty, apartment, not questioning it or overthinking, as the two women spent the rest of the weekend together, not leaving Mal's apartment once the entire time.

+

“So, you have had quite a few successes recently?” Mal asked, taking a sip of water as she leaned back into the plush booth of the restaurant, observing Regina as Regina mulled over her menu, trying to decide whether to order the calamari or mussels.

“It’s been a good year,” Regina said.

“It’s good to see you are doing well,” Mal said.

Regina looked over at her and smiled. “Same for you.”

“So. Regina. What are you after next? Fame? Fortune?” Mal asked.

“Cutting straight to the point as usual,” Regina observed, setting down her menu. 

Mal smiled smugly.

“I want to be successful,” Regina said after a moment of thought. “Not for reasons of fame, or fortune, but to prove that I can do it. That I can take care of myself. I will be content if I know that I can do all of this myself. Starting a well-respected fashion line and maintaining a successful and thriving business. I live for that.”

“Your mother isn't still pushing you towards rotten relationships, is she?” Mal asked. "I hope not... nothing will hold you back more than something like that."

Regina took a sip of her iced tea. She didn’t drink around Mal.

“Not as much recently. Not after I started sticking up for myself, after the whole… well, you know. In my early 20s. After Henry was born, it was easier for me to find the strength to push her away, and I put an end to her interference in my love life.”

“What about your insane sister? She still enjoying hunting down beautiful men to play with?”

Regina laughed. “She’s getting married this spring.”

Mal shook her head. “What a terrible fate for her fiancé.”

Regina sighed, and shifted nervously in her seat. “I have to go to that. I have to find someone to go with, otherwise my mother will probably jump on the opportunity to match me up with some miserable human being at the wedding.”

Mal didn’t reply.

“So, if you are not after love, Regina Mills, but rather, the success of your business, what is next? It seems things are going quite well for you on that front.”

Regina shrugged. “Business is steady, and I showed my collection in New York at the end of last year. My next goal is to show in Paris. And perhaps get more press for it.”

“So many goals - you must need a lot of energy to keep up with the demands of your work.”

Regina shrugged.

“Do you have energy for it all?” Mal asked.

Regina scowled. “I have plenty of energy.”

“You’re not quite that young, idealistic thing I used to know," Mal said.

Regina laughed. “Young and idealistic? When I knew you best, I was cynical and burned out from a terrible relationship. You were my only friend back then.”

Mal shook her head. “No. You were not in a bad place compared to me. I was a terrible person to be friends with.”

Regina took a deep breath. “You were genuine and respected me. One of the few people in my life who was truthful and honest to me,” Regina said.

“And you were full of life,” Mal said. “It… brought me back to life.”

 “What do you mean?” Regina asked.

“You know I wasn’t doing well, back when we first met.”

“Yes,” Regina said.

Mal leaned in. “After I left you, I sought help. It took years before I felt normal again. I even managed to reach out and see my daughter again - she’d been living with her grandmother, but I started to see her after I got better, and things are good with us now. I don’t know if I would have been motivated to get help if I hadn’t been with you. I owe you, Regina.”

Regina studied her. The tall woman, so smart, so full of mystery and intrigue. She’d known she’d had some issues with depression, with substance abuse, when she was with her. But she also looked up to her, as someone who had accomplished so much before 30, becoming a professor, knowing so much about the world…

At 21, Regina realized, she'd been too young and naive to realize that the woman was in such a bad place.

“I’m glad you got help, but I’m not sure it was my doing.” Regina said quietly. “I was too young to be of much help to you.”

“No, you were. You had this… energy. You’d been through a bad relationship, I know, but you had so much life, motivation, you spoke of doing graduate school, starting a business. I, in the meantime, had thought of… nothing, for a few years. I thought the rest of my life would be a black hole. That changed when I met you. For that, I do owe you, Regina.”

“You owe me nothing,” Regina said.

The women ate, quietly, saying few words other than that the food tasted good. Finally, after the nourishment, Regina felt brave again.

“I’m in a better place now,” Regina said. "I've learned a lot."

“I’m glad,” Mal replied, finishing the last piece of fish on her plate.

“And you're in a better place.”

“I am,” Mal said, looking at Regina suspiciously.

“Come over to my house after dinner,” Regina said. 

“For what?” Mal said.

“For… old time’s sake,” Regina said, hoping the nervousness wasn’t so evident in her voice.

Mal set down her fork and knife. “Regina,” she said.

“We’re both different,” Regina said to her quickly. “But in many ways, we’re still the same… good for each other.”

Mal looked over at her with… with what? Pity?

Regina felt herself grow agitated. She knew what was coming, from that look on her old friend’s face. 

“I’m not the one for you,” Mal said simply.

“Why?” Regina asked, clenching her jaw, her stomach sinking.

“I truly don’t want a relationship. I’ve found a good balance in my life, and I don’t want that to change. And you deserve someone who actually is on the same page with you. Who _wants_ someone else to come home to. That person isn’t me.”

Regina raised her eyebrows and looked down into her lap. Well, then.

“I’m sorry, dear,” Mal said, and from the way she said it, Regina knew she was.

Regina nodded. “Dessert?” she asked, allowing the waiter to take her plate.

Mal shook her head.

_Good_ , Regina thought. _This torture wouldn’t have to be prolonged, then_.

+

A deflated feeling filled Regina after her dinner with Mal. She was happy for Mal - truly. She was glad she seemed to be in a good place in life.

That she’d moved on.

Regina had moved on, too. It had been ages since they’d ever been… a thing. And sometimes you want to get back that feeling of a period of time in life that you had shared with a person, more than actually wanting the person themselves back, she reasoned with herself. Maybe she didn’t want Mal. Just the comfort that Mal had brought her back in that difficult time of her life.

And so, as always when she was frustrated, in the days after that dinner, she threw herself into work. When she wasn’t toiling over lace imported from Portugal and Belgium, sleek new microfiber fabrics from Asia or fine yards of satin from Turkey, she was attending her town council meetings, or scraping together what energy she had left after her long days to talk to her son and make sure he was doing okay. At least, he assured her he was doing ok, with his slumped-over shoulders and persistent desire to return to his comic books.

“After homework,” she said to him as he reached for a comic, tired, exhausted, yawning after a long day.

One Monday night after a town council meeting, she was locking up when she noticed the man leaning against the wall of the building in the dark, smoking.

“No smoking within 9 feet of the entrance,” she said out loud to the man, stashing her keys back in her bag.

“You won’t make an exception for an old friend?”

Regina sighed and walked towards the man.

“Graham. It’s you. You should know better than to smoke.”

“And you should live a little,” he said, offering you his cigarette.

She took it.

“Everything fine at your shop? No more broken windows, I hope?”

“No.” She exhaled, and then pressed her back to the wall, looking up at the night sky. “It’s almost like someone is out to get me lately… broken window, we had a few issues with our website and some delayed shipments lately, and of course back around the holidays there was Emma and her endless string of headache-inducing ideas. It’s an endless supply of stress in my life.”

“How are things going with your neighbor? I haven’t heard you complain about Emma lately,” Graham said.

Regina shook her head. “Nothing to complain about. It’s… she’s, fine.”

“No more arguments over tables or decorations or who owns which part of the sidewalk?”

“It wasn’t exactly like that,” Regina said defensively.

“It was a little like that,” Graham said, laughing.

“If you say so.” she handed him the cigarette back and turned to leave.

“Wait - Regina.”

“What?” she asked.

Graham flicked the cigarette into the gravel between the sidewalk and the road, underneath a short palm tree. 

“Care to come back to my place?” He brushed a hand through his hair.

“Not particularly. I need to get home. I have meetings tomorrow-“ Regina said, but she didn’t move. 

A moment passed. Then another.

Perhaps it was the stress, and her sheer desire to unwind. Perhaps it was the way that Graham looked at her - the way she wished more people in her past had looked at her. Or at least, a certain person she’d dined with recently. Someone who had left her bitterly rejected. She moved towards him. 

His eyes looked at her lips, seconds before she pressed her mouth to them.

They kissed, then. For a few moments. But they broke away. 

Something wasn’t…right.

As Regina looked into Graham’s eyes, she knew he felt it, too. 

Another person from her past, any connection, or chemistry, seemed to have dissipated with time. Mal, Graham. Reduced to a distant memory.

She wasn’t going to linger and be rejected again. This time, she would do the rejecting.

“Goodnight, Graham,” Regina said, clutching her hand around the handle of her purse and turning to walk to her car.

+

The next morning at work, she watched as Mr. Gold brought Belle a coffee, delivering it with a kiss and a smile.

“You didn’t have to,” she overheard the Australian girl coo gratefully.

“How could I resist a few extra minutes with my Belle?” the man answered, his accent also betraying some foreign origins - Scotland, Regina thought.

Belle giggled.

_Sickening_ , thought Regina, scrolling through her emails on her phone as she turned to walk upstairs. Nobody should be that in love. 

In her office, one of her assistants had rolled in a rack of just-complete lingerie. The latest line that would be shown to buyers at meetings in New York and Paris in upcoming weeks. Regina inspected it carefully, looking at every detail, admiring the work that she had seen from the conceptual phase, to the sewing room, and now this… 

The black lace, the deep, jewel-toned fabrics, satin. They looked like pieces from some sort of fairy tale Queen’s boudoir. Dark, sensual. Beautiful, elaborate, but still completely wearable.

It was some strange joke that the woman who had never figured out love, was in the business of selling fantasy about love - and the garments to wear while showing off said love - around the world.

She shook her head, disappointed in herself, despite the pieces that were in front of her that she knew were good, that she knew were finely made and crafted, that would please her current customers and hopefully capture the attention of future customers. She wanted more - professionally, personally - and couldn’t bear to celebrate her present success. She went back to her email.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all of your comments and kudos so far! And by the way, no more of Regina's past relationships after this. ;)


	4. Familiar

•10 years ago•

Emma watched as Jacques poured the steaming coffee into the hot milk. “Don’t use too much - watch that the proportion is like… this,” Emma's coworker Jacques instructed, lifting the press pot away from the cup and presenting the finished product to Emma with a flourish.

Emma nodded, then did one of her own.

“Très bien, really nice, Emma,” Jacques said approvingly as she presented him the finished product.

“Not too shabby,” their manager Neal chimed in, observing. “You’ll now be in good shape if the president of the company comes by.”

“Is he French?” Emma asked.

The coffee stand was located in the front atrium of the headquarters of a software firm, Charming Software, the company where her mom worked as a corporate trainer in human resources, and her father worked in security… they’d worked at the firm since Emma was a baby, working their way up, growing as the company grew. It was only fitting that Emma’s first after school job would be at the place where her parents had spent their time all of these years.

Neal shook his head. “Nah, the president’s not French, but he’s European, so he likes his coffee a certain way.”

“I think I’ve got it under control,” Emma said confidently.

She loved coffee, the smell of it, the taste of it… it was a perfect first job. Not only was she getting paid to be around something she enjoyed, she got all the coffee she could drink when break time rolled around.

Emma whiled her days away after school working the evening shift, observing all of the young developers and marketing types grab their coffee in between meetings and typing away on laptops as they worked late into the night. It was such a cool environment, she thought, observing tables of professionals only a few years older than herself brainstorming in the open, bright and airy atrium.

It was an ideal after school job, and Emma liked her coworkers, and for 6 months she earned a pretty respectable little savings for her bank account thanks to the job. The only thing she didn’t love about it? Her dorky dad sometimes dropping by to order a coffee, talking far too enthusiastically with her coworkers, laughing and joking. 

“I’m working, dad,” she’d groan when he came by to try to bond with her and Neal or Jacques, whomever happened to be sharing her shift. 

“It’s just a perk of my job that I get to see my daughter,” he said, grinning widely. “Get it… perk?”

Emma rolled her eyes, but she noticed her dad put a $10 in the tip jar before he left. 

Well, _that_ was a perk at least, she thought to herself. 

But the creative, upbeat buzz that characterized the environment at Charming Software all shifted overnight. 

“What is up with people today?” Emma grumbled to Neal one afternoon when her 5th customer in a row had barked an order, complained about how something was wrong with it, and didn’t so much as leave a penny as a tip.

Neal glanced around, motioned for her to move closer to him and lowered his voice. “Rumor is this company’s going to be bought out by a huge multinational that’s gained some major market traction lately. They’re after some of the technology that’s been produced here, but like a lot of other businesses they've bought in recent years, everyone knows it’s likely they’ll just buy the company for its technology and maybe keep on a few people, but almost everyone else will be out.”

Emma’s heart sank. Her parents… both of them worked here. That couldn’t happen. She hoped it was just a rumor. 

It wasn’t just a rumor. Charming Software was purchased a month later for a staggeringly large sum, and most of the employees were laid off, including her parents. Except, weirdly, for Emma, who was offered a position in the larger company’s food service department, as a barista at one of the many in-house coffee bars at the multinational company’s headquarters only a few miles away. She took it, but only so she could save up as much money as possible. She offered to give it to her parents, who were scrambling to find new jobs, and trying to figure out if they could get her mom’s lifelong dream of opening up a cupcake shop off the ground, but they refused to take money from their daughter. 

Finally, after serving coffee to the very man who’d ordered the layoffs of most employees at Charming Software for the 8th time in the same week - an old, quiet guy named Henry who was rumored to be rich as dirt and absolutely talentless, yet because of his power and wealth, key in securing the acquisitions of companies like Charming - Emma got tired of being reminded of how unfair the world was, quit, and spent the next couple of years driving around the country on a massive road trip, blowing off steam, making a few mistakes, trying to escape the cold, unfriendly, unfair and fake world that she left behind. 

She vowed never to depend on anyone else for an income after the experience of watching her parents crash and burn after putting all of their career eggs in one basket. Emma did endless odd jobs to pay for gas during her nomadic life after high school, and earned enough to put herself through community college, but she did it all while making sure she was never answering to anyone except for herself.

+

• Present Day • 

Just when Emma had nearly forgotten about Regina Mills, she looks up one Wednesday morning to see a slightly panicky Regina staring back at her.

“Has my son been by here today? Have you see him?”

“I… ah, no,” Emma said, glancing around the room instinctively, to confirm he really wasn’t there. “Nope, I haven’t seen him at all today. Why? What’s going on?”

“I can’t get a hold of him. His school just called, said he didn’t come in today, which is unheard of. Completely unlike him. And if he's not here…”

“Is he at home?” Emma asked, concerned.

“He must be. I don’t know. This day is the worst -“ she said, cradling her forehead in her hands. “I have a meeting in an hour, I’d cancel it but it’s the buyer for a department store, Harry’s, and I’ve been trying to get a meeting with him for months… I can’t miss it. But I need to know where my son is before I can focus on anything.”

“Henry’s not answering his phone?”

Regina shook her head. “No. That’s what’s strange. I don’t understand,” she said, pushing on Henry’s name on her phone again anxiously, the phone ringing but no answer.

“You should check at home.”

Regina nodded. “I know, he probably just stayed home from school… he must have. I would check, but this meeting, I don’t have enough time to get home and back by then.”

“Can anyone else handle the meeting?”

Regina shook her head. “No, I have to do it. I have to be there.”  
 “Tell you what. This afternoon’s slow for me and Ruby’s here to keep an eye on things. You go to your meeting, keep your phone handy, and if you want, I’ll go and check on him.”

Regina’s shoulders relaxed slightly at the suggestion. “Would you really? No… it’s too much to ask.”

“It’s not,” Emma assured her. “It’s no problem at all. If you tell me where to go, and what to do,”

“I’ll give you my key,” Regina said, pulling her key ring out of her pocket and handing it to her. “Just in case there’s no answer, go ahead and go in to check and make sure he’s not there. If he’s not there… I don’t know what I’ll-”

“I’m sure he’s there. I’ll find him. And actually, I’ve got experience in this sort of thing… tracking people down, that is.” Emma nodded reassuringly, taking the key.

“Okay. All right,” Regina said, tucking her hair nervously behind her ear. I’ll have my phone the whole time, any questions, just send me a message.”

Regina could barely concentrate on the meeting that afternoon. Luckily, she’d meticulously prepared for it - impeccable samples to show the buyer, business plans and perfect drawings and every piece of information she could possibly collect that might be required by the buyer to help him make a decision as to whether the department store could carry her Forbidden Fruit line… she'd made sure she was ready days ago.

Shortly before the meeting was wrapping up, Regina managed to glance down at the screen of her phone and saw that there was a new message from Emma.

“Found him on the couch. Sick - with the flu, I think?”

Relief flooded through Regina. At least she found him, that’s all that mattered. She regained enough focus to complete the meeting - hopefully without the representatives from the store noticing that she was at all off kilter. 

The minute her meeting ended, she said goodnight to everyone and drove home as quickly as she could.

 

Emma was in awe of Regina’s house.

It was a mansion.

Regina must have only been - what, maybe 5 years? at most - older than her, and yet her house was large, elegant and sophisticated, in an exclusive neighborhood just within the border of Story Brooke. It looked like a baroness or something should live there. Not a single mom, up-and-coming owner of a line of underwear, and very part time mayor/bureaucrat.

Emma felt small as she moved through the pristine rooms and hallways. The wood floors shone, the walls were a creamy white, the kitchen had beautiful marble countertops. She felt slightly like she was in a museum of some sort. A place where she shouldn’t touch anything.

She felt like an intruder.

The kid, however, was thankfully in plain sight on the couch. When she walked into the room, he turned, squinted, wondered why she was there, and seemed satisfied when she explained that his mom was worried and had sent her.

After Emma gave Henry a blanket, brought him some water and herbal tea and assured the kid his mom would be home within an hour, he fell back to sleep on the couch. To kill time, Emma wandered through the house. She was trying to grasp the space, which was at once beautiful and elegant, but also lonely, and sort of old… 

It had made quite a first impression when she’d first walked in, but the more time that passed, as she wandered through the rooms and waited for Regina to get home, the more the house started to feel cold and impersonal. Why did Regina and Henry really need all the space, anyways?

Emma brushed her hand along the polished light stone countertops, the velvet and leather furniture, the endless books in the cabinets. She wasn’t daft enough to go upstairs, but she did look in the medicine cabinet in the downstairs powder room, where she discovered a small bottle of perfume. She gave it a light spritz and the air instantly smelled exactly of Regina. Emma closed her eyes and sighed for a moment.

The woman was a real piece of work, but damn, she smelled good.

About an hour later, a very concerned Regina rushed in, heading straight over to the boy sprawled out on the couch.

“What happened, Henry?” she asked, kneeling in front of the couch, feeling his forehead, talking to him softly as he stirred awake.

“My… ear…” he said.

“Does it hurt?” she asked.

The kid nodded.

“Let’s get you to the doctor. Can you stand?” 

Henry eased himself up, and Emma quietly followed them out the door, taking it as her cue that her help was no longer needed. 

+

Emma returned to Swan Song, and to a quiet evening. The weather was unusually cold, and rainy, and no one in Story Brooke seemed to be interested in heading out for a cup of coffee that night. Even her music booking for the evening had cancelled.

“Ruby, go ahead and close up in a few. I’m just going to make something in the kitchen before I go,” Emma said.

Ruby nodded. “Sure thing,” she said as she started to close out the cash register and do a final pass at wiping off all the tables and the bar. 

Emma wandered into the kitchen and started to prepare a little more food than she normally made for herself for dinner. She took a plastic container and threw together a salad - Ruby usually put together some gourmet salads every day around lunch time, and today’s had been cranberry-pecan spring greens with a vinaigrette, so she used the leftovers from that. She then found a few thick slices of bread, some thin slices of cheese, and dug out a wedge of butter from the back of the freezer, and put together some grilled cheeses. At the last minute, she added thin slices of pear and dijon mustard to the sandwiches, just to give them a bit more of a sophisticated flair. She wrapped them in a foil wrap, and, on her way out, grabbed a few glass bottles of juices. And then, as an afterthought, two date-pinwheel cookies.

Without overanalyzing what she was doing - what was she doing? This woman had tried to make her first few critical weeks in business miserable, and now she was, what? Acting all friendly? Emma drove all the way back to Regina’s. When she arrived at the dark house, she took the food from her passenger seat, which had been tucked in a reusable canvas shopping bag and walked it up to the front porch.

Just then, she saw headlights behind her.

Shit. She thought she’d be back before Regina and Henry got back.

She turned around, smiled, and waited awkwardly as Regina parked and got out of the car. 

She cursed herself for doing this. 

This was ridiculous. 

And unnecessary.  
 And totally unlike herself. 

Henry followed, dragging out of the passenger seat, and Regina put her arm around his shoulder, guiding him up the front step.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean for you to see me again. I wanted to drop off some food - figured it’d been a long day,” Emma said shyly, holding up the canvas bag of goodies.

“Come in,” Regina said, her voice tired and eyes a little unfocused, unlocking the door and helping Henry inside. He headed straight back to the couch, and Regina motioned Emma toward the kitchen.

“What ended up being wrong with Henry?”

  “Ear infection, apparently. He’ll be fine. It just gave him a high fever and got him a little disoriented today - which is why he didn’t call me, and then his phone died. Anyways, we got his antibiotics… he’ll be fine,” she said, slumping over the counter, her energy clearly drained. 

“I’m glad he’s gonna be okay,” Emma said.

“Parenting is…hard,” Regina said quietly, running her right hand through her silky inky brown hair, the light reflecting a few slightly reddish highlights.

Emma shifted, not sure what to say. She wasn’t a parent. She couldn’t really relate.

Regina blinked a few times, as though she just realized Emma was there. “Thank you. Thanks, Emma. For… everything today. I don’t really -“ he hesitated, as if wanting to take back the sentence she started. “Well, I just don’t really have anyone I can call for help.”

Emma shrugged. “Really no big deal. Glad to help out, you know, Henry. He’s a good kid.”

Regina smiled, her shoulders relaxing. “He really is.”

“Oh, and, I brought this food,” Emma said, remembering the bag she was carrying.

She unloaded the sandwiches, salads, cookies and juice, spreading out on the kitchen island.

“I’m starving. You have no idea,” Regina said, taking a plate out of a cabinet and surrendering to the spread of food.

“What about Henry?” Emma asked, concerned.

“He’ll be okay - I think he wanted sleep more than anything. If he wakes up, I have some soup in the fridge that I could heat up for him.”

Emma nodded. “Well, I guess I’ll be out of your way, then.”

Regina looked at her, blinked, her eyelashes fluttering.

“No, stay. Please, Ms. Swan.”

“Emma.”

“Emma. Eat some of this…” she motioned vaguely at the pile of food. “I can’t get through it all on my own, and Henry’s appetite seems to be gone.”

Emma shook her head, but Regina was already pushing a plate toward her, and so she gave in and sat down on the barstool across from her. 

They ate in silence for a few moments.

“Any word on who broke your window?” Emma asked.

Regina shook her head. “No idea.”

“One of the guys I hire for odd jobs around the cafe, Leroy, might be able to help you with the repairs,” Emma offered.

“That’s appreciated, but I have someone.”

Emma shrugged. 

“Besides, that… Leroy?” Regina cleared her throat. “I assume he’s not my biggest fan because of the whole…well, being against festive holiday decorations thing?”

Emma laughed, despite herself. “Yeah, something like that.”

Even Regina cracked a smile, shaking her head. “Well then, I think I’ll just go with the person I have in mind.”

Emma shrugged. “No problem. But if you need anything else, or if your person falls through, let me know. We’ve got to stick together. Pool our resources. This kind of window smashing thing could’ve happened to me. It might’ve just been random, them choosing your window.”

“Perhaps,” Regina said.

Emma studied her for a moment. Was she just shy? Lonely? What was up with this woman? At least she seemed to be enjoying the grilled cheese.

“This is really good,” Regina said, staring at the sandwich. “What do you call it?”

“Grilled cheese with pear and mustard,” Emma shrugged.

“Nice combination. I wouldn’t have thought of it.”

 “Well, I was just going to make a regular grilled cheese, but figured I’d fancy it up a bit. You don’t really seem like the… you know, grilled cheese type.”

Regina glanced over at her. “I don’t? Hmm. I suppose you’re right. But I do appreciate this one. It has complex flavors.”

“Usually I’m not that into complex things,” Emma said. “The simpler, the better.”

“Is that so?” Regina said, raising her eyebrows.

Emma nodded.

“Well, I like complex things,” said Regina, munching thoughtfully.

After she finished her sandwich and salad, Regina offered her the cookies - and Regina considered a moment, then took one.

“This is good, too. You’re talented, you know. The food is good, the coffee is good.”

Emma smiled. “I didn’t do the cookies, Ruby did. But yeah, I love food. It’s why I always wanted to open a cafe. I’m not a chef, I don’t even really know how to bake or cook - that’s why I hire people like Ruby to do the complicated stuff like pastries and donuts - but I guess I know good food. My parents were always out, busy, working when I was a kid, ‘cause they had me so young. So I learned at a young age about how to, you know, put a grilled cheese together, or make something simple like tomato soup.”

“Comfort food,” Regina said, finishing the last of the salad on her plate.

“Exactly,” Emma said.

Regina set her napkin next to her plate. “How much do I owe you for this?” She asked, taking Emma’s plate and moving towards the sink.

Emma stood up.

“What? No, nothing. My treat.”

“Nonsense. First I kept you from work by sending you here earlier to check on Henry, then you brought me all this food-“

“It was nothing. It’s on me.”

“Well, I must owe you something. Do you want to be able to put another table out in front of your cafe? Because I can turn a blind eye to it, if you do, and I’m sure…”

“Regina,” Emma said, lightly touching her shoulder. 

Regina looked down at her hand, clearly surprised, and Emma instantly withdrew it.

Emma cringed internally. Why had she touched her?

Emma tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear and continued. “The food’s on me. Just helping out someone who needed it today. That’s what neighbors are for, right?”

“I can’t tell you the last time someone brought me dinner,” Regina said quietly.

“It’s late. I’ve got to go,” Emma said, edging towards the entrance.

“Right,” Regina said, walking her toward the door.

Emma noted how their footsteps echoed in the house as they walked.

“Goodnight. And thank you, again,” Regina said, walking her out to the porch.

Emma smiled. “Anytime. Seriously. And tell Henry I hope he feels better soon.”

Regina nodded, crossing her arms against the night chill. “I will.”

As Emma drove home and kept replaying the events of the day over and over in her mind, wondering if she’d said or done the right things, wondering why she was helping out her impossible and irritating neighbor to begin with, she tried to make some sense of the woman. 

Emma was puzzled over Regina - the big empty house, the lack of people to call for help despite having supposedly grown up here, the general sense that she got that Regina just seemed to have bitten off more than she could chew. 

Emma was also relieved to know that she was going home to her own tiny studio apartment. Regina’s house was beautiful, but ridiculously big and empty. Emma liked things to be a little bit cozier.

+

“Ms. Swan, I apologize,” Regina’s voice rang out above the din of conversation during the morning rush the next day at Swan Song. 

Regina was ordering her usual Americano.

“For what?” Emma asked as she worked on one of the machines, trying to make 3 different coffee orders at once.

“For bothering you. It was unprofessional of me to bother you at work, and then send you to my house-“

Emma looked up, surprised. “Forget it. It was no big deal.”

“It was a ridiculous thing for me to ask you.”

“It wasn’t.”

“Yes it was.”

Emma used a rag to wipe the excess drips from a cup off the counter. “Look,” she said, studying Regina. “I don’t do anything I don’t want to do. Well, except for pick up stuff outside my shop that clearly don’t meet city code, or whatever. But I wanted to help out. I didn’t mind. It wasn’t a problem.”

Regina pursed her lips. “I won’t ask for anything again,” she said, taking the Americano and handing Emma a five.

 “It’s on the house, remember? Neighbors, and free coffee, and all that.”

“Just take it. You run a business, not a charity. You can’t just give away stuff left and right,” Regina said, almost scoldingly. 

“I don’t,” Emma said tersely, but took the money.

“Good day, Ms. Swan.”

Emma rolled her eyes.

Impossible woman.


	5. Friends

Henry was back on his feet within a few days, and Emma noticed him once again coming into the cafe regularly after school, hanging out in his usual booth in the corner, playing video games or reading comics, passing the time until his mom finished up with work. 

Henry still insisted on ordering donuts or coconut-caramel squares or any one of Ruby’s daily dessert specials, but Emma, feeling a bit guilty about pushing so much sugar at the kid, began to push the grilled cheeses on him instead.

“Just for you, I’ll give you one for the same price as a donut. Any of the grilled cheese sandwiches on the menu.”

“I’ve never seen so many kinds of grilled cheese,” Henry said, looking over the choices. “Um, how about this Nutella grilled cheese?”

 “Good choice,” Emma said, nodding seriously. “Sourdough bread, banana, cream cheese and Nutella. One of the best recipes Ruby’s ever come up with.”

Well, maybe that wasn’t exactly a huge step up from a donut after all, Emma thought, but at least it assuaged her guilt somewhat, in terms of the after school snacks she was feeding him. Not that she was one to try to control her customers’ eating habits - hell, she couldn’t even control her own less-than-healthy eating habits - but she was starting to feel some sort of protective instinct when it came to Henry. At least the sandwich had a bit of fruit in it, right?

As for Henry’s mother, to Emma’s surprise, Regina was following in her son’s footsteps and becoming a regular customer at Swan Song.

Now, nearly every day, Regina came in the mornings, ordered an Americano or cafe au lait (or sometimes both) before heading to work. Regina was always cool and curt and insisted on paying, but Emma couldn’t help but smugly take note of how indispensable her coffee seemed to have become in the woman’s morning routine.

Once or twice, Emma considered going to see what Regina’s store was all about. But as soon as she stopped in front of the big glass doors leading into the boutique, she always hesitated and jetted away. She had no reason at all to go into the place. She didn’t like frilly fussy underthings… and somehow, even if she did need underwear or a bra, it seemed way too awkward to get them from Regina’s store. Nope, she’d rather just stick to ordering that kind of thing online or picking up something from a discount store.

That is, until a phone call pressed the issue, and Emma decided it was time to suck it up and drop by Regina’s fancy store.

+

“I’m looking for something… um, still kind of casual, but you know, nice.”

Regina’s ears picked up the sound of Emma’s voice drifting up the stairs at the end of the day one Thursday.

“We just got these in, a brand new design for the spring…” Regina heard Belle say.

“Fifty dollars for a pair of underwear?” said a shocked Emma.

Regina shook her head as she eavesdropped on the conversation. Go figure, the woman who wore nothing but jeans and tank tops would have no interest in fine fashion. 

“Regina’s work is exquisite,” Belle said, handling the situation smoothly. “One of the things sets her pieces apart are the luxurious fabrics she uses - they’re carefully selected because they drape beautifully and are silky and elegant, but also comfortable to wear.

“Yeah, but fifty dollars… seriously?”

Belle laughed politely. “I understand, believe me. Here, I can suggest something else, over here..”

Regina walked the rest of the way down the stairs. What was Emma doing here? Something about the woman being in her shop made her nervous. 

She peeked around the corner. Emma was the only customer at the moment.

“Is it a special event?” She heard Belle ask Emma.

“Yeah. I’m going out with a friend. Perhaps, well, you know. More than a friend? I don’t know. It’s complicated.”

Well, well, well. Emma didn’t just live and breathe coffee and pastries, then.

Regina stepped behind the counter and pretended to be rummaging through a binder while she eavesdropped for another minute or two, listening as Belle struggled to get Emma interested in the lingerie.

“I’m not sure this store is really for me,” Emma said apologetically. “I didn’t know. I just thought I’d check it out. I’m sorry.”

Regina decided it was time for her to rescue Belle from the impossible situation that was Emma.

“Belle, it’s nearly closing. Feel free to close out your sales report for the day and go home when you are done.”

“Sure,” Belle smiled amiably and slipped behind the counter and began working on the iPad.

Regina then turned to Emma, smiling. “So, Ms. Swan. What a surprise to see you here.”

“It’s Emma.”

Regina pursed her lips and tapped her toe impatiently. 

“Emma,” she said, plastering a fake grin on her face. 

“Nice store you have here. very… uh, modern. Sophisticated.” Emma said, trying to soothe the woman’s nerves, which were clearly flared, somehow, by her presence. 

“Can I help you find something?” Regina asked politely.

Too politely.

Emma shook her head. “I was just browsing. Maybe looking for something, but, um, this isn’t really my usual thing to shop for.”

“I can help,” Regina said. “In fact, why don’t you come upstairs? It’s far more interesting up there, it’s where I keep most of my stock, new designs, and things that never even make it down here to the shop. We might be able to find something that suits your… tastes.”

Emma followed Regina upstairs, pondering whether the way Regina had said “your tastes” was an insult.

“Welcome to the heart of my business-“ Regina said, stepping into the workroom to give Emma a bit of a tour. She turned on the light. “It’s a little late, my staff have all gone home, but normally we have a few people working here - making patterns, sewing the new designs, placing orders for fabrics and other bits and pieces and sending the information to our factories overseas to make the vast majority of the pieces that we sell to customers. We also do some custom orders.”

“There’s a lot more up here than I expected,” Emma said, looking around at the machinery, the mannequins, the endless garments in various states of completion.

“This is a studio, workroom, brainstorming room, and corporate headquarters all in one place,” Regina explained. “But this isn’t what I meant to show you, necessarily. I wanted you to see that I have many more pieces - hopefully pieces that you would be more comfortable looking at,” Regina said, stepping toward a section of the room that was half-hidden behind heavy velvet floor-to-ceiling curtains. 

“I only select a few items in my collection to put downstairs in the boutique - most of my pieces are sold online,” she explained.

Emma nodded, feeling supremely out of place. “Makes sense.”

“Here,” Regina said, pulling aside the curtain and clicking on a light to the second part of the room, where there were mirrors and mannequins, racks with clothes in all colors and sizes, hanging, waiting to be displayed or worn..

“This isn’t even close to everything - we have an actual warehouse for the vast majority of my inventory, but this will give you a good sense of what I create.”

“These pieces are… beautiful,” Emma said, admiring the lines and rows of silk chemises, nightgowns and robes. She saw camisoles and brassieres, endless rows of every type and shape of undergarment. Some she understood, others - like one with multiple strings that crossed and tied and crisscrossed again - that she wouldn’t have the least clue about how to put on.

“Wow, and to think I really only came in for a bra that would look decent under the blouse I want to wear tonight,” Emma said.

“Oh. If that’s what you’re looking for, then here…” Regina waded into the racks of clothes and picked out a few bras in a variety of colors covered in lace. Emma had to admit they were pretty, though a bit outside of her comfort zone.

“These are our absolute best selling designs - everyone finds it’s a flattering fit, and it looks lovely under any kind of clothing,” Regina said, holding up the pieces that hung from small satin and velvet hangers.

Emma took it, glanced at the sizes, and chose the one that matched her own. “I could try this,” she said, studying a black one that was smooth and satin, nothing too frilly or lacy.

Regina pointed her towards a screen that was off to the side of the room. “You can use that to change,” she said. “There’s a mirror behind there, too.”

Regina left Emma alone upstairs with the endless rows of lingerie. Alone in the vast space, Emma felt slightly more settled as she looked for a few reasonable pieces to try on. She could hear Regina downstairs, talking on the phone, her shoes click-click-clicking across the floor. 

Emma felt awkward up in the space alone. It was strangely intimate, being in the heart of Regina’s world, her business and livelihood. Intimate was also the obvious way to describe a room full of lingerie. She decided to try on three of the bras she found - hopefully they were decent so she could pay for them and get out of there. She didn’t want to take up too much of Regina’s after-hours time. 

She couldn’t remember the last time she picked out nice undergarments. Probably never.

“Did you find something?” Regina asked a few minutes later when Emma went downstairs with her choices.

“Yup, I did. Thanks. I don’t think I’ve ever taken the time to pick out nice things like that,” Emma said, awkwardly laying them out on the desk for Regina to wrap up.

Regina took them from her and began wrapping them in black tissue. 

“Special occasion?” Regina asked.

Emma nodded. “Old flame asked me to be her date at a wedding.”

Regina nodded, pursing her lips and placing the gently wrapped bras in a crisp white paper shopping bag with the stark FORBIDDEN logo printed on front.

“Well. It’s a good idea to look your best when seeing old… friends,” Regina said primly.

“Also a lot of pressure. I want to look, you know, good.” Emma bit her lip.

Regina handed the bag to her.

“I doubt you will have any problem with that,” Regina said, her eye catching Emma’s for a moment.

“What do I owe you?” Emma asked a beat later.

Regina shook her head. “Nothing. It’s on the house.”

 “What? No. You pay for coffee when you come into my place.”

Regina shook her head. “You look out for my son. He goes into your cafe all of the time.”

“But he pays.”

“I know. But it means something to me, for you to, well you know, keep an eye on him. He tells me you do.”

Emma sighed. “It’s nothing. And I feel…weird. Not paying.”

“Well, don’t. Just have a good time on your date,” Regina said, forcing a smile.

Emma sighed and took the bag. “Thanks. But I’m giving you free coffee for at least a week.”

“It’s a deal, Miss Swan,” Regina said, smiling for real.

“It’s Emma,” Emma replied as she left the shop.

+

The next night, Regina was looking out her upstairs office window absentmindedly, tired after a long day of phone calls and meetings, when she saw a car pull up and park along the sidewalk outside Swan Song. A pretty woman, blonde like Emma, got out and walked into the cafe. She was wearing formalwear, which was unusual for the neighborhood, especially on a Friday when people were usually dressed even more relaxed than usual. Moments later, she emerged again, accompanied by a chipper and bouncy Emma, also dressed up.

Must be the big date, Regina thought. Friday night wedding? It was possible.

On Saturday morning, Henry was invited over to a friend’s house and Regina decided to go into work. She was in Swan Song getting her usual morning coffee - although no Emma in sight, she noticed, just Ruby this morning. 

She chatted with Ruby about the unusually rainy weather they were having. Ruby was never the warmest or friendliest towards her, but she answered cordially while navigating the espresso machine, preparing her Americano. When she finished, Regina got out her designer coin purse and paid, and turned to leave - and bumped into a flushed Emma, awkwardly wearing the same outfit she’d left the evening before in.

“Oh - hey,” Emma said, seeing Regina. “Good morning.”

“And good morning to you,” Regina said brusquely, looking at Emma from head to toe, an eyebrow raised.

“I… um, just had to stop by and pick something up,” Emma said, looking at Ruby but sounding as though she was explaining the situation to Regina, too.

“Have a good day, Miss Swan,” Regina said.

Emma narrowed her eyes suspiciously at the tone. “See you later.”

Regina turned and left. 

“What’s up with her being all judgey?” Ruby asked, watching Regina leave.

Emma shrugged as she ducked behind the bar and then into the back room.

“I know you two have been getting along better, but once a bitch, always a bitch,” commented Ruby, wiping her hands on a tea towel. 

Emma snorted.

“So, enough about her, I take it you had a good night?” Ruby asked, grinning, leaning against the doorway into the back room, a hand at her hip. “Spill.”

+

Regina didn’t come in for coffee on Monday or Tuesday. But by Wednesday, she had a lack-of-decent-coffee tension headache that was so bad, she gave up, grabbed her coin purse, and dashed down the stairs and into Swan Song.

The aroma of perfectly roasted beans, banana bread, chocolate muffins and a slight tinge of cinnamon hit her nose as soon as she walked in and instantly relaxed her.

“Wondered how long you were going to stay away,” Emma commented, glancing up from behind the bar.

Regina shrugged. “I’ve been busy.”

“When you get busy, you used to come in for more coffee, not less.”

Regina didn’t reply.

“Did I do something wrong on Saturday morning?” Emma asked.

Regina acted surprised. “No. Why?”

“Because you haven’t come in since then.”

“I said I’ve been busy.”

“Well, I didn’t know if something insulted you. Did Ruby serve you a bad coffee? Or a rancid blueberry muffin or something?”

“No. Although speaking of which, I did try the apple turnover last week and it was subpar.”

“Oh, so that’s it. Subpar apple turnover,” Emma said.

Regina shook her head and crossed her arms. “That has not been what’s scaring me away. But you don’t do the pastry well - it’s not tender and flaky like it should be. It’s far too rubbery and chewy.”

“Rubbery and chewy?” Emma asked, indignant. “Really? Are you some sort of expert, or…?”

Regina sighed. “I’m not an expert, but I know how to make a decent turnover. And yours is not a decent turnover.”

“Fine. I’ll give you free coffee for a week if you come in and show me how to make tender, flaky turnover.”

“Are you being serious?” Regina asked.

Emma nodded. “I’m curious to know what a non-subpar apple turnover tastes like. Be my guest.”

“Well then. I suppose I'll be over tonight after work.”

+

Regina isn’t sure what possessed her to suddenly be such a crusader for apple turnovers. But she wrapped things up around 7pm at work, and went over to Swan Song that evening.

Emma was in the back room, typing something on her phone. The cafe had closed - Emma usually closed up around 7 early on in the week, saving the late nights for later in the week and weekends. 

“I’m here for your apple turnover lessons, Miss Swan.”

Emma looked up, ignoring the Miss Swan comment. “Follow me into the kitchen.”

“So,” Emma said, handing Regina an apron and then grabbing one for herself. “How did you become such an apple turnover expert? Flour and sugar are over there-“ she said, pointing.

Regina busied herself by opening up drawers and cupboards, roaming around the small commercial kitchen gathering the things she needed.

“Growing up, there was a large apple tree in our front yard. Every year my mother had to come up with a million ways to use them up. Or rather, she ordered the maid to come up with a million ways to use them up. It was my father who once suggested apple turnovers as an alternate to the endless string of apple pies and apple crisp, and together we figured out a good recipe. He’s European, so he knows how to make a nice tender and flaky European pastry dough. After several tries, he and I perfected the right blend of ingredients for the filling, and ever since then we’ve made these great turnovers that were better than any pie…”

Regina arranged all of the ingredients on the counter and turned to Emma. “So, let’s get started, shall we? First, the pastry…”

+

An hour later, Emma and Regina were sitting at the counter on two wobbly wooden barstools, devouring the perfect, tender, flaky pastries that Regina had whipped up for them. The kitchen smelled divine: warm, with the aroma of buttery pastry and gently spiced apples, comforting smells that enveloped them both.

As they sat, chatting amicably, any earlier tension from their conversations seemed to have entirely dissipated. 

What’s more, Regina wondered if she’d imagined some of the things that had happened while they were cooking.

The way Emma watched her as she was mixing and stirring and reaching for ingredients hadn’t gone unnoticed.

On her end, she wondered if Emma had noticed the way she couldn’t help but allow her hand to linger over hers once or twice. Their hands had brushed as she’d reached for the spoon Emma was using to stir, or when they were both reaching for the same knife to slice into a juicy apple. Both times, Regina let her hand dwell on Emma’s just a little longer than was decent.

But now, they were just talking, and Emma was conceding that the apple turnovers were the best she’d ever had.

“Please, please write down this recipe so Ruby can start making them at the cafe. They’re going to be a hit with customers,” Emma said.

Regina nodded. “I’ll email it to you.”

“Running a successful business, cooking perfect turnovers, being a single mom, being mayor, being impeccably dressed all of the time even when cooking… is there anything you can’t do right?” Emma asked, biting into a second turnover.

“There’s a lot that I don’t manage to be very good at,” Regina said quietly.

Emma laughed. “Yeah, right.”

“I’m alone,” Regina said. 

“Oh,” Emma said, her face growing serious.

“I miss… having someone,” Regina admitted, looking down at her lap. “I mean, I have Henry. But he’s my son. And I have my employees. It’s different. I miss having an adult to talk to. A friend.”

Regina took a deep breath. “It’s been nice, tonight, Miss Swan. Cooking with you.”

Emma cringed, then nodded. “It was fun. But if we’re friends, can you please stop calling me Miss Swan.”

“So, Emma,” Regina corrected herself, “I taught you how to make a decent turnover. I’m not such a bad neighbor to have around after all, I hope?”

Emma snorted. “You were not the best neighbor a girl could’ve asked for at first, but this is starting to make up for it.”

Regina swallowed, and watched as Emma licked her fingers clean of the sugary dust that they’d sprinkled on the pastries.

Regina swallowed. Suddenly, a heat rushed through her body. 

She then acted on impulse, something that rarely happened.

She shifted forward on her stool. “Is there… anything else I can do? To make up for it? My… past behavior?” she asked softly.

Emma looked up, her eyes suddenly wide, it dawning on her that something unusual was happening. 

Regina’s eyes softened and darkened, and she leaned forward, hesitantly, but just enough to make her intentions clear.

It was now up to Emma to accept the invitation… or pull away.

A few long seconds passed. 

Emma accepted. 

Emma leaned forward and Regina instantly picked up on her concession. Every ounce of her body was suddenly a magnet, pulled into Emma, and without thinking or questioning any of it, the two were joined as one in that moment. 

Regina’s senses were overwhelmed: by Emma’s lips, soft, open, moving, by the feel of her in her arms, her hair twining through her fingers, her smell, her soft skin. Regina wanted to press her against the wall, have her entirely at her mercy, but to her surprise, it was Emma who suddenly became forceful, and Regina let her take the control. 

Lips still locked, she let Emma steer her to the wall, and moments later felt her back pressed up against it, her eyes still closed as Emma took a hold of her wrists and gently pressed them at shoulder level against the wall. Regina surrendered to it, shuddering slightly at the sensation of Emma’s gentle, and persistent force, and they kissed still longer, time standing still, nothing mattering except for the two of them, there, at that moment, just existing.

When the two finally pulled apart, Emma continued to gently running her hands up and down Regina’s side as they eased up on their kisses. Finally, they pulled apart and looked at each other as if for the first time. 

Regina’s eyes were wide and brown, slightly stunned but also filled with desire. Her eyes were sending a clear message to the woman: she wanted more.

Emma’s expression, however, was soft, surprisingly relaxed, as though what had just happened was totally expected, her eyes relaxed and her mouth turned into a slight grin. “That was…” she started softly.

“I have to go-“ Regina said, her eyes returning to normal, as if she’d suddenly been shaken awake from a dream. 

She wiped her mouth where her red lipstick had smeared slightly as she hastily moved away from Emma. “I need to go home,” she said firmly, dashing to the table on the other side of the room where she’d set down her purse earlier. 

“Oh… kay…” Emma said, slightly sunned, standing in the middle of the room and watching as Regina disappeared.

Regina left the cafe, the bells on the door chiming slightly, signaling the night was over.


	6. Flight

Every time the door chimed the next morning, Emma looked up, expecting a woman in a sleek black pencil skirt, silk blouse, and mile-high heels to walk in. A few times, when she saw a brunette out of the corner of her eye, her pulse raced a bit, and she would look up and noticed it was… not the brunette she wanted to see.

By 9:15, Emma realized that the person she wanted to see wasn’t going to stop in. Regina usually had come and gone well before then. Her stomach sank, disappointed. But not surprised. There wasn’t any way the woman had liked what had happened last night. That was that. It had been a weird, wonderful, awkward, amazing moment, that evaporated as quickly as it had materialized.

It wasn’t like Emma understood it, anyways. The attraction. Well, okay, fine… she sort of understood it. She understood that she was attracted to the woman. Something about the way she held herself. She was confident, smart, successful, stern, maddening… yeah, the whole package, basically. She had a few drawbacks - Ruby was right, she could be a bit of a witch - but she had other assets.

She definitely had other assets.

And she desperately wanted to see those assets again.

By the mid-morning lull, somewhere around 10:30, well after Emma had given up any thought that she’d be seeing Regina that day, the front door opened… and in she walked. She was wearing a simple grey sheath dress and a sophisticated black trench coat with conservative heels, no tight pencil skirt and deadly black heels today… but the way she was carrying herself, looking focused and serious and confident and, well, _amazing_ , Emma struggled not to stare.

“The usual?” Emma asked casually as Regina reached the counter. 

She wanted the interaction to be normal. She wanted to give her a chance to see things could be fine between them. She was just glad to see her.

“Sure, yes. Thanks,” Regina replied quickly, not meeting her eyes. 

Emma got to work, making the Americano, as she watched Regina out of the side of her eye, focusing on scrolling through her phone. She was slightly paranoid that the woman would dash away again like a skittish cat in the night.

Still, she tried as hard as she could to act normal. Just make the coffee, pour it into the paper cup, put a lid on it, a sleeve, and…

When she set it down on the counter, Regina had the exact change ready for her.

Emma smiled politely. “Have a good day.”

“You too, Miss Swan.”

Emma’s heart sank. So. They were back to that Miss Swan thing. 

Regina left.

Emma began zealously wiping down the counter around the machine, where there were tons of tiny coffee grounds that had spilled that morning.

“That was weird,” Ruby commented as she put a tray of blueberry muffins into the refrigerated case near the cash register, stocking up before the lunch crowds began.

“It was nothing,” Emma grumbled.

“No banter? Quippy remarks? What’s going on with you two? You act like…” Ruby stopped, studied Emma, who started to focus even harder on gathering up every last one of the spilled coffee grounds.

“No,” she said quietly, her jaw dropping open. “Did… you two… something happen?”

“Sssh,” Emma hissed, scowling.

“It did,” Ruby said in an incredulous whisper. “What… why?! And when?”

“Keep it down,” Emma whispered, and then steered a half-surprised, half-laughing Ruby into the back.

“Seriously? With her?” Ruby asked, her eyes wide.

“I don’t really want to talk about it. You’re just gonna judge.”

“Oh come on. I am not. The woman might be a royal pain in the ass, but look at her… well, ass. Anyone can see she’s delectable.”

Emma didn't respond. "What happened?" Ruby asked again, gently. Emma sighed, defeated. “She came in yesterday, complaining about the apple turnovers or something, and she offered to show me how she makes her family’s recipe. Then she came back last night, after closing, and we baked, talked. It was nice. Friendly."

“You baked together,” Ruby repeated.

Emma cringed. “Well when you say it like that, it sounds really lame. But it was actually pretty interesting. She made a great batch of turnovers. And then, well…”

Ruby raised her eyebrows. “Wow. Wait, here? On the…”

Emma held up a hand. “Okay, hold up. Nothing happened. Nothing… much. Not _that_ much.”

Ruby leaned against the counter and laughed. “Fine, but how long until it does?”

“Not really any of your business, is it?” Emma grumbled.

“It’s not, but… you don’t seem overly happy about it? Did she have second thoughts or something?” Ruby pressed.

Emma shook her head and crossed her arms. “I dunno. She seemed… eager to escape. And, well, she came in just now, which is good, but based on the way she just acted, she clearly she wants to ignore anything ever happened. Don't know what to do next. If anything.”

Ruby nodded sympathetically. “Give it a day or two. Let it settle in, then go back to her and suggest you get together somewhere, away from work, so you can talk.”

Emma nodded, then glanced out towards the shop.

“Speaking of work, we gotta get back out there. The lunch crowd’s going to start soon.”

+

Emma was distracted the rest of the day. She screwed up three orders, which was three more than she normally got wrong. Luckily, Ruby was the world’s best employee and picked up some of the slack while Emma struggled just to make the coffee the right way.

Regina came in the next day, and their interaction was similar. The following day would be Saturday, and Emma wasn’t sure Regina would be in again until Monday. Too antsy to wait and see what was on Regina’s mind, Emma decided to go into Regina’s shop and see if she could invite her out for a bite to eat on the weekend. Nothing too threatening - lunch, maybe, or even just a drink - and she’d make it clear that they could go as friends. To clear the air.

So on Friday night, she told Lily she was leaving early for once. She knew Lily was able to handle their Friday night crowd - it might be a large crowd, but they were usually relaxed on live music nights. Friday customers usually wandered in after dinner, had simple orders. Coffee, dessert. So, after their musician for the evening - a jazz singer from New Orleans - took the stage, Emma ducked out as soon as she saw that everything was all set for the night.

When Emma stepped into Regina’s shop, she saw that the merchandise had changed over, and the decor was fresh and pretty - there were little pots of grass and orchids displayed throughout the store. It looked brighter and cheerier than usual.

“Good evening,” a man said as Emma stepped in. She’d seen him duck into Swan Song a few times - Sidney, she thought his name was.

“Can I help you find anything?” he asked.

“Actually, I was just wondering if Regina’s still around?”

“Well, she’s upstairs, but her sister dropped by, so it might not be the best-“

As he was explaining, Emma heard voices in the stairs. There was a high, shrill, almost sickly-sweet voice of a woman, and then there was the familiar, lower, and much more even-toned voice of Regina’s.

“But you have to come this weekend, it’s my bridal shower luncheon. And then after that I hope you’re planning my bachelorette weekend. You do know my wedding is coming up, and you are my maid of honor-“ the woman giggled- “And so you must plan something truly wicked for my last weekend as a single woman."

“I highly doubt it will be your last weekend ever as a single woman,” Regina grumbled.

The woman clutched her heart as they reached the bottom of the stairs, her mouth dropping open dramatically. “How utterly unromantic and sad for you that you think that’s how marriages go: doomed for failure. Not all of our love lives follow your patterns, sis.”

“I’m not the one who is on my third marriage, _Zelena_ ,” Regina said, a hand on her hip.

“Oh, those were just to test the waters. This one is for real,” Zelena said, waving the comment off.

Regina rolled her eyes. “Right. Well, this is also bridal shower luncheon number three, and bachelorette weekend number four…”

“Four?” Zelena asked.

“Don’t you remember? When you were going to run off and elope with… whatshisface… you made us throw you a bachelorette party before you left. And then you met the person who actually ended up as husband #1 that night.”

“Oh, yes,” Zelena said wistfully. “Those were simpler times…”

“I really don’t have time to go this weekend. Zelena, I hardly see Henry as it is…” Regina said.

“And whose fault is that? You’re the one working all of the time. I can’t help that.”

"Working is productive. Sitting around with obscure relatives watching you get more gifts you don't need is not."

Zelena scowled. “Come this weekend, or I’ll get mother involved. And you and I both know you don’t want to endure a painful call from our mother."

Emma, who was pretending to look through a row of silk robes, cringed as she heard Zelena speak to Regina. Zelena was a real piece of work. She’d never had siblings, but if she had… ugh. She didn’t think anyone deserved to have a sister who was so rude.

“Fine,” Regina conceded. “I’ll do it. But under one condition: this is the last time. The last shower luncheon, the last bachelorette party I’m planning, and the last wedding of yours I’ll ever attend!”

“Honestly, sis, it’s sad you’re not more of a romantic. You won’t need to attend any more, because this will be my last wedding. Walsh and I will have beautiful children, with little green eyes like mine and…”

“Enough. Let’s take one step at a time,” Regina grumbled.

“Oh, and don’t forget, you still need to find a date for my wedding. Time’s running out, sis! Let me know if you want me to give cousin Claude a call,” she laughed to herself as she was distracted by some emerald green silk slips on a table. She delicately held it up.

“I quite like this one, sis. Not bad,” she said.

Regina watched her like a hawk watching a mouse. 

“60 dollars,” she said.

“Oh, perfect. This would be the ideal gift for me for my bridal shower, then,” Zelena grinned.

“Maybe,” Regina said.

“Be a dear and wrap it up, won’t you?” she carried it to Regina at the desk.

“I haven’t decided if I’m going to give you that yet,” Regina said through gritted teeth.

“Oh, that’s all right. Everyone knows you aren’t good at making decisions, so I’ll make one for you. You are giving me this, and I’ll take it with me today. Walsh will enjoy getting a preview of what the wedding night will be like…”

Emma cringed as she pretended to study the sleeve of a floral-patterned robe. What was up with this woman?

Regina silently took the silk chemise and wrapped it in black tissue and placed it in one of her crisp white paper shopping bags.

Zelena giggled as Regina handed it to her. “Lovely. Thank you ever so much. I’ll see you this weekend at mummy’s house.”

 And with that, the awful woman finally left.

After she had gone, Regina let out an audible sigh of relief.

“Dreadful woman,” Sidney muttered.

“Tell me about it,” Regina said, pulling a bottle of water out from underneath the desk and taking a sip. 

“What was that she was saying about your cousin Claude?” Sidney asked.

Regina shook her head. “She likes to tease me about it. It’s stupid. He’s not really my - our - cousin. He might be a distant relative, tough to say. He’s this man who is in his, I don’t know, late 40s, still lives at home, he’s strange and we used to make fun of him when we were kids. She always threatens to make me go out with him. Finds it hilarious, for whatever reason.”

“She’s a real piece of work,” Sidney said, shaking his head.

Regina cleared her throat, turning her attention to the blonde who had tried to make herself invisible in the far corner of the store while she’d been talking to her sister.

“Miss Swan. We’re closing soon. Can I help you find something?” Regina said, sounding deflated. 

Emma stopped shuffling through the robes. That damn "Miss Swan" thing again. Like nothing at all had passed between them.

She took a breath. “I just dropped in to…” 

Her voice trailed off as she glanced towards Sidney, who was looking at her and listening closely.

Regina caught her drift.

“Sidney, I just remembered there are a few parcels that I need to drop off at the post office on my way home. Would you mind running upstairs and getting them off my desk?” She asked, smiling. 

After they waited for Sidney to disappear upstairs, Regina moved closer to Emma.

Emma spoke. “I wanted to know if you’d have a little time this weekend to go somewhere and talk. For lunch, coffee, a drink, whatever. As friends."

“Well, as you heard, I have a social engagement this weekend. Between that, and work, and Henry, I don’t have a lot of time.”

Emma nodded sympathetically. “Sure. But-“

Regina interrupted her, continuing. “You can be certain, however, I will be going out for a drink after my sister’s dreadful shower/bridal lunch/whatever it is on Saturday. I like to go to a place called Mad Hatter’s. It's on the coast. And should you also happen to be there, on Saturday, at around 5, for a drink… you’d be more than welcome to join me.”

“That… sounds like a plan,” Emma said, surprised.

She had been prepared to have to convince Regina.

“Good. I’ll text you the time and location. Perhaps I will see you then, Miss Swan.”

“Yeah, perhaps,” Emma said.

+

On Saturday evening, Emma sat alone at Mad Hatter’s, a quaint place that was at once quirky and oddly unsettling, with peculiar decorations and a color scheme that came straight out an 80s music video, but all in all it was actually a pretty decent place. Not quite the kind of hangout she would’ve guessed Regina liked - she imagined black and white, pianos, martinis, jazz at the type of place Regina might frequent - not this strange, Wonderland-inspired, off-the-beaten-path environment she found herself in. Mad Hatter’s was positioned at the end of a little drive that overlooked a quiet, rocky beach. It was protected and surprisingly serene, considering they were still in a densely populated area. It really wasn’t a bad place to pass a few hours.

Emma ordered a drink off a menu that was shockingly unfussy to keep busy while she waited for Regina, and discovered it was one of the best drinks she’d had in a long time. 

She couldn’t quite relax, though, wondering why she was even bothering to talk to Regina. The events from earlier that week swirled around her mind. They way they'd laughed and talked, got along easily. The way Regina had gotten some flour on her sleeve at one point when she'd been cooking. The music they'd been listening to, the amazing way the kitchen smelled as they were baking the turnovers.

The way Regina's eyes looked, when she'd leaned in... 

And how Regina had rushed out, and acted like nothing had happened ever sine.

As Emma waited, she decided something. She wasn’t going to trail after this woman and put up with all of her weird behavior. No, Emma had had her fair share of dramatic relationships in the past, and wasn’t going to get involved in any more. She was at the tail end of her 20s: she didn't need it anymore. This conversation was going to tell her what she wanted to know: whether the woman wanted the, whatever it was, that was going on, or if they should just pull the breaks and stop while they were ahead.

As Emma sipped her drink and mindlessly scrolled through her phone, she wondered what the odds were that the woman would actually show up. With every passing moment after 5, she figured her chances got lower and lower.

Until finally, a leather purse was set gently on the table in front of her, and she looked up from her phone to see a certain brunette sitting down with her.

“Sorry I’m late,” Regina said, and as she ran a hand through her hair, Emma could see that the woman genuinely did look sorry. And tired.

“No worries,” Emma said, catching the eye of a waiter. “Here,” she said, passing the off-white textured paper that the house menu was printed on. “Pick something out. My treat. Looks like you could use it.”

Regina smiled hesitantly, and glanced down at the choices. 

A waiter came, wearing a purple shirt and a strange top hat. “I’ll have a cider, please.”

The man nodded and disappeared to get her order.

“It’s very good here,” Regina explained. “It’s from an orchard owned by the family of the gentleman who owns this place.”

Emma nodded, and held up her own glass, which was almost entirely ice. “I believe it. This is a good drink. Or, was a good drink.”

The waiter brought the cider.

 “That was fast,” Emma said.

Regina nodded. “The service is good here. As is the view,” she said, glancing out the window. It was just getting dark.

“That it is,” Emma agreed, not looking out the window at all, but rather, looking at the person across from her. 

Regina didn’t notice.

Emma cleared her throat and sat up a little straighter. “How was your day?”

Regina sighed. “It was… a day. My family is a real handful. But Zelena had a good bridal shower luncheon, so that has been successfully accomplished, and we can all move on to the bachelorette party, which I have the good fortune of planning, as her Maid of Honor. Which is not, in fact, an honor.”

“What are you going to do?” Emma asked, absently swirling the ice in her glass with the straw.

Regina shrugged. “Have a party. Food, bartenders, hire a DJ. I’ll have to get Henry out of the house, perhaps he can stay with a friend. I suppose I’ll have to hire something… scandalous. Like-“ Regina cringed “-exotic dancers.”

“Ohhhkay,” Emma said, sitting up straighter. “First of all, you’ve seen a lot of 90s movies if you think that’s how a bachelorette party’s supposed to go. Secondly, I highly doubt you want a bunch of your sister’s drunk friends, DJs, bartenders and exotic dancers in your house, with your pristine parquet floors and white leather furniture and antiques. You’ll be cleaning and repairing things from now until your sister’s fourth and fifth weddings, and that’s assuming your house’ll even survive the ordeal."

Regina seemed to be considering that.

Emma continued. "Secondly, I take it your sister’s a bit of a diva? Bridezilla type?”

“That’s an understatement,” Regina confirmed.

“All right. Well, I’m assuming she’s got some big expectations for her bachelorette. These things are destination events now, not tupperware parties at a home in the ‘burbs. You have to go someplace. It’s a whole weekend deal.”

“My sister’s entire adult life has been one giant party, blowing her money on vacations and restaurants and bars and clubs. An extravagant bachelorette party is not something she needs,” Regina protested.

Emma shrugged. “Ultimately it’s your call. I’m just saying, I’ve seen some pretty crazy and elaborate bachelorette parties in my day.”

“You’ve known a lot of bachelorettes?” Regina asked.

“Not personally. Not really. It’s just in my former line of work, I kind of had to deal with situations that included bachelorette parties.”

“Right. Well then,” Regina said, sipping her cider and thinking. “You’ve given me a lot to consider.”

“It’s not like you don’t have enough on your plate, I imagine planning this is the last thing you’d want to do,” Emma said, reading her mind.

“It is. I have some big meetings coming up in the next couple of weeks, and I might have to travel a bit. A bachelorette party - pardon me, a destination bachelorette party - is about the last thing I want to arrange.”

“You know, I could talk to Ruby. She’s always talking about how she wants to get into catering or even party planning someday. I know she’s thrown some killer bachelorette parties for friends, and this might be a good opportunity for her to cut her teeth on a professional project. That is, if you’d be interested in someone else taking over and dealing with the party planning.”

“Yes. Yes, I am very interested. Tell Ruby I will write her a check for literally anything if she would take this off of my hands, and mind.”

Emma raised her eyebrows. “Anything? Okay, well, she’d be really glad to do it, then.”

“My family also has access to a private jet we could use. So the destination really isn’t a problem, as long as the flight isn’t too long.”

“Uh… okay. Well, that certainly gives us even more options,” said Emma.

What kind of family was this?

“This is supposed to happen the weekend after next. Is that enough time?” Regina asked.

“That’s really last minute. I’ll check with Ruby, but I’m pretty sure she’ll be excited for the opportunity to do this and will jump right on it.”

“Good,” Regina said, all business, and taking another sip of her drink. “Then it’s settled. Tell Ruby to name her price and give me a call as soon as she gets the chance and we’ll get started.”

“Consider it done,” Emma said.

The waiter brought her second drink. It was in a low glass, filled with ice, limes and a clear liquid.

“So,” Emma said slowly. “Moving to another topic. I wanted to see you. Just, you know, to make sure things are ok with us.”

Regina shifted on her seat and bit her lower lip.

“Everything’s fine,” she said, taking a sip of cider.

“Really?” Emma said, dropping her voice, “Because I didn’t really get the sense that things were fine after… you know, the other night.”

Regina looked up at her, eyes soft and brown and conflicted.

She took a breath. “Emma, I appreciate having you around. As a neighbor, as someone who makes excellent coffee, as a person who generously keeps an eye on my son every once in a while when I’m stuck in endless meetings or am late getting out of work. I don’t want to jeopardize that. And getting to… know me, more, could jeopardize that.”

“I see,” Emma said, nodding, picking up the hint.

Emma took a sip of the drink. It was stronger than the last.

“Is there someone else?” She asked a few moments later.

Regina shook her head. “No, of course not. I don’t want to have anything with anyone. Not now. Not when I’m busy, and have Henry, and have my work, and I’m going to need to start traveling more soon. I’m not the type to… want to get involved. Not now. Maybe not for a long time. I’m just not good at it.”

Emma nodded, looking at her, polished and professional in appearance, but troubled, and sad, behind those eyes.

Still, she respected her wishes.

“No one can do everything,” Emma said gently, not sure what to say or do other than agree with her.

Regina looked at her, surprised. Had Regina expected Emma to pick a fight? Press the matter, argue the case? 

Well, if she had, Emma thought, she’ll be sorely disappointed. Emma had been let down by people too often in the past to want to press an issue when it was already a problem, a problem before anything had barely even started.

Nope, she could accept this, she thought, leaning back into her chair. 

“I definitely can’t do everything," Regina said again. "I especially can’t spend any more time than I already do stressing over my family and their extravagant taste and requests. I hope Ruby is up for this bachelorette thing. It may be quite the challenge for her first party planning job.”

“Oh, she’s got lots of experience party planning. The job side of it, I can lend a hand with. I’ll convince her to do it,” Emma said. “Leave it to me.”

Regina smiled, grateful. It was the first genuine smile Emma had seen her make in a while. 

“Thank you, Miss Swan.”

+

On Wednesday, Regina came in for her usual coffee but, unlike usual, sat down at a small table and waited for Emma to finish up with another customer before joining her.

“Ruby’s not working this morning, but she told me I could fill you in on her big plans for the party,” said Emma, sitting down and pulling up something on her phone.

“First thing’s first, where are we going? I need to submit that information to the person who schedules the flights on the jet-“

“Vegas,” Emma said.

“Las Vegas. How original,” Regina replied, rolling her eyes.

Emma raised her eyebrows. “You wanna plan this thing, then?”

Regina shook her head. “Absolutely not. Vegas it is.”

“We’re going to Vegas,” Emma said, amused. “And for good reason. Ruby's not just doing it to be cliché, we've both got some connections there that will make even the most discerning Bridezilla have a ridiculously memorable time.”

“Who would you have ‘connections’ with in Vegas? Do you know Elton John or Celine Dion, or…?” Regina scoffed.

“Well, I worked there for a little while and kind of have a whole Nevada identity.”

“What?”

“There, I’m Anna Summers. Nevada resident, complete with driver’s license and voting record.”

“Why-“

Emma waved her hand. “Long story, some other time. But it’s convenient for getting a local discount on a ton of stuff in Vegas. Anyways, she’ll have a memorable weekend. Or not memorable, depending on how much she decides to imbibe at the private party with the private bartender who is making up a whole menu of personalized cocktails just for your sister. By the way, you need to get me your sister’s favorite cocktail ingredients.”

“That would simply be alcohol. And ice.”

“Okay, then,” Emma said, typing something into her phone. “Noted.”

“She also likes anything green.”

“Good, a color scheme. Ruby mentioned something about that,” Emma said, typing another note into her phone.

“What else are we doing on this Vegas trip? Other than having a private bartender serve us drinks?”

“Shows, putting on shows, dancing, more drinking, food to soak up all of that alcohol after drinking, entertainers, your usual Vegas fare with a lot of things that’ll make your sister feel special and in the spotlight, making you Sister of the Year for planning such a personalized, extravagant and extraordinary bachelorette weekend. For the third time.”

“Fourth, actually,” Regina grumbled.

“Right. Fourth. Anyways, fourth time’s the- eh, charm. Or something. It’ll be a good one,” said Emma.

Regina shook her head. “It sounds tacky and ridiculous, all of it. Which I suppose is completely appropriate for a Vegas bachelorette party.”

She handed Emma an envelope with her perfectly manicured hand. “The first payment for Ruby. It contains everything we agreed upon in the budget so she can start paying for things, as well as the first payment for her services.”

Emma took it. “I’ll get it to her. But I still have all kinds of details here for you to approve-“

Regina waved her off. “I don’t have time. I trust her. If she really gets stuck on something, let me know, but it seems she knows how to throw a memorable weekend in Vegas without me. Especially with all of your top-secret connections there.”

Regina stood up.

“Are you sure?” Emma said.

Regina nodded. “I have to get to work,” Regina said. “I have conference calls with department stores in Paris this morning.”

Emma nodded. “Go back to work. Don’t worry about all of this – just be sure you’re ready next weekend for the most tacky and ridiculous three days of your life. Oh, and what’s your dress size?”

“Why?” Regina asked suspiciously.

Emma gave her an innocent look. “No reason. Just for party planning reasons.”

“I’ll send you my measurements.”

“I don’t need measurements. Just a size.”

“Sizes vary dramatically according to the label.”

“Uh, this isn’t for one of your fancy brands. An approximation should work. Small?”

Regina rolled her eyes. “Yes, Small. 4, if it’s a number. 8 UK.”

Emma typed it in. “That’ll be enough. All right, go to work. We’ll let you know if we’re stuck on anything. Otherwise, we’ll see you at the airport this weekend.”

+

It was a wonder, Regina thought, that her sister had any friends. Such an intolerable person who had very little regard for any living soul other than herself. Still, Regina was the first to arrive at the Executive airport that weekend to make sure everything was in order for the plane to leave. It was a corporate plane, used once upon a time by her father, back in the days when he was busier, and now shared by a group of his powerful and successful friends, and himself. 

But early Friday morning, Zelena’s friends began to trickle in. Regina had a few strained conversations with the women. As more arrived, they could talk amongst themselves, mostly gossip about so-and-so; who had been married, or divorced, or newly broken up, or cheated on, or had gotten botoxed.

She was supremely relieved to see Emma and Ruby finally arrive, both toting several shopping bags and duffel bags.

“Can I help you with any of this?” a concerned Regina asked.

“I’m good, but I think Ruby could use a hand with a few of her bags,” Emma said.

Regina took several from the woman's overloaded arms

“Thanks,” Ruby said gratefully, teetering under the weight of what she was carrying. 

Regina helped Ruby load all of the bags, boxes and a few suitcases onto the plane while the rest of the bachelorette party continued to trickle into the small executive airport – “are we throwing a party for a whole army?” – she joked.

“Your sister has some specific requests and very discerning taste,” Ruby explained.

“Don’t I know it,” said Regina, leading them outside where a large luggage cart was sitting. Someone helped them load the bags onto it. “I’ll be in shock if you’re able to stay in budget. Truly.”

Ruby smiled. “Hey, I am actually well under budget, believe it or not. Of course, the addition to the budget you told me about didn’t hurt.”

“I figured it wouldn’t,” Regina said.

A large squeal caught their attention. 

“My sister has arrived," Regina observed, watching her sister parade into the airport lounge. "With 5 suitcases. And people always thought I was the clotheshorse.”

“Can we board now?" Ruby asked. "I should get the champagne ready."

Regina nodded. "I'll come with you."

As they walked to the plane, which was sitting on the tarmac, Regina spoke. "Ruby?"

“Yep?”

“I know I’m not your favorite person. But I really, really appreciate you handling this. It's a little outside of my comfort zone.”

“Well, I really, really appreciate the huge check you wrote me and the huge budget. This is one hell of a way for me to kickstart my party planning business.”

“Our weekend is in your hands," Regina said, climbing into the plane first, then showing Ruby where she could pour the champagne. An ice bucket was already ready and waiting. 

Meanwhile, Regina put her carry on next to a seat towards the back of the plane. "I’m going to try to get some work done on this flight.”

“Good luck with that,” Ruby said skeptically, arranging several champagne flutes on a tray as Zelena and her friends began to board.

“It’s you who needs the luck,” Regina said, settling into the far seat and getting out her laptop.

“Everything ok in here?” Emma asked, walking into the plane holding a box and two bags.

Ruby nodded. “Yep. I’m all set. It’s show time.”

Zelena’s odd mishmash of friends began to board. Some were minor celebrities, including a local woman who was a meteorologist famous for chasing tornadoes, even though there were no tornadoes to chase in California; an architect who was actually quite reasonable and intelligent; two “actresses”; a celebrity gossip reporter with a podcast, and a midwife (Zelena had never been pregnant, at least not to Regina’s knowledge, so how her sister knew her, she had no clue). Out of obligation, Regina had invited their mother, but Cora had politely (and to Regina’s great relief,) declined. Along with it, however, Cora had offered to double the budget she was giving Regina to throw Zelena's party, which was now, to Regina's estimate, probably the largest 3-day bachelorette party budget a woman who had been married not once but twice before had ever been given. 

Once the ladies had all boarded the plane in a cloud of perfume, laughter, and chatter, were seated and given a glass of champagne, Ruby began to explain their first game: a get-to-know-you type activity with a dirty twist. Regina put on her noise-cancelling headphones.

“Mind if I sit next to you?” Emma asked.

 “Ms. Swan,” Regina stated, surprised, sliding her headphones back off of her ears. 

In the chaos that was her sister’s friends boarding, she hadn’t realized Emma was still there. “You'd better leave, the plane is taking off in a moment.”

"Oh, I'm coming too. Didn't Ruby say?" Emma asked.

"No. Why would you want to come along with us?"

Emma shrugged. “I haven’t been away from the café in weeks, and Ruby said she could use a hand.”

“Why you would want to spend your first weekend off with my sister and her lunatic squad of friends, I cannot comprehend.”

Emma shrugged again. “The more lunatics, the merrier.” 

And with that, Emma sank back into the leather seat and pushed some earbuds into her ear.

Regina opened her laptop and began to type out some emails, and barely noticed as the plane took off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Thank you so much for your kind comments over the past couple of weeks. I've taken a bit of time in between posting chapters, but that's because of the way I write: I like to be well ahead of the chapter I'm posting so I can see that my ideas will at least somewhat work out the way I want them to. The good news is, I have written at least 2-3 more chapters and am well into writing chapter 10 right now. So I should be posting the next three chapters at a much faster rate. I should also say that my story is just for fun. It's tropey, it's never going to get super angsty. It's the kind of thing I like to write after a long day at work to relax, and hopefully you enjoy reading it. :)


	7. Fun

A few hours later, they landed in what Regina considered the hottest, tackiest, and overall least pleasant city in the world. She wanted to get to her hotel room quickly, change, finish up another hour or two (or three) of work, and try to avoid as many of the activities Ruby had planned as possible. Maybe she’d even be able to sneak in a visit to a spa for a manicure, or massage, but only if she wrapped up all of the tasks on her calendar for the day.

“Where are we going, Ruby? What hotel are we staying at?” Regina asked, trying to see out the tinted windows of the SUV limo monstrosity they were being driven in from the airport.

Inside the limo, there were no less than 2 disco balls, numerous purple lights, and a stripper pole.

Horrendous.

Even worse, Zelena’s midwife friend was urging Zelena to give the pole a try. Mercifully, Zelena politely refused, instead pouring more champagne for everyone.

“What hotel are we staying at?” Regina asked Ruby.

“Panache,” Ruby said.

“Which one?” Regina asked, thinking she’d heard wrong. 

She assumed they’d stay at one of the stereotypical hotels on the strip, the ones with the thousands of rooms and entire cities contained within the lobbies, the tacky buffets at all hours of day and night, the endless slot machines scattered throughout the lobbies, restaurants, bars and bathrooms.

“It’s called Panache,” Ruby said again.

“It’s an elegant place,” Emma chimed in, noting the look of concern on Regina’s face. 

“Never heard of it,” Regina said, glancing down at her phone again out of habit.

The limo-SUV dropped them off outside the entrance to one of the main, monstrous hotels Regina had expected to stay at.

“This isn’t called Panache,” Regina observed, taking her suitcase and pushing on her sunglasses.

“Nope, it’s not,” Emma said, helping the driver unload the rest of the suitcases. 

Zelena’s friends had all but forgotten their whereabouts, much less their suitcases, focusing instead on laughing about some outrageous story that the architect, a brown-haired woman named Dorothy, was telling.

“Put your phone down, sis, and stop being such a bore,” Zelena said, snatching the phone out of Regina’s hand and walking into the lobby.

“Hey!” Regina said, rushing after her.

They walked through the massive lobby of the hotel, past endless shops, bars, restaurants and what appeared to be a river cutting through the entire hotel, and then, through an unmarked door. They followed a mostly-dark passageway for what felt like a mile, punctuated with backlit glass mosaic works of art, until they emerged in a surprisingly cool, quiet courtyard with small fountains, benches and ample lush greenery. They crossed the courtyard and found themselves walking through another door – and straight into what felt like a hushed, elegant, sophisticated boutique hotel. Hardly anyone was in the lobby, and two bellhops and a receptionist greeted them immediately.

“This must be the bachelorette party,” one of the bellhops said, rushing to take their bags.

“Reporting for duty,” Ruby said, moving swiftly to the front desk to check in the group.

“What is this place?” Regina asked, looking around.

“It’s Panache,” Emma said. “It’s a hidden hotel.”

“A 'hidden' hotel?”

“You have to know someone who knows someone to even think about making reservations,” Emma explained.

“It really is hidden,” Regina said, impressed, looking around the quiet lobby.

“All right, ladies – let’s take the elevator on the right to the penthouse suite!” Ruby rounded up the animated group of women, including a distracted Zelena, who was still holding her glass of champagne from the limo ride and haphazardly flirting with one of the bellhops.

Regina stayed behind at the front desk. 

“Waiting for something?” Emma asked, as she also moved towards the elevator with the group.

“I want to check into my own room before going up,” Regina said.

“Uh, you’ll be waiting a long time. Not possible. We’re all in the penthouse. But don’t worry – it’s huge.”

“What? Are you serious? I am not staying with those women. No. I’m getting my own room.” Regina said, jaw dropping open.

“Then you’ll be waiting a while. This place is totally booked this weekend, next weekend, pretty much every weekend from now until… well, Zelena’s next wedding.”

“Unacceptable. Then I’m going to another hotel. Like the gigantic one we just walked through. Anything would be better than staying with this group of-”

Emma gently steered her towards the elevator. “Maybe later. For now, join the party. You’re technically the host, after all. Might as well act the part.”

+

After arriving at the penthouse – which, Regina had to admit, was massive; it was a world unto itself with two floors, a private rooftop pool, butler service and unlimited drinks, several bedrooms and a massive grand room overlooking the Strip.

As soon as they got in and their luggage was delivered, Ruby pulled her first trick out of her hat, which was a drinking game that somehow also involved answering dirty trivia questions and the losers, not the winners, got prizes that had to be worn out later: t-shirts with quippy sayings about love and marriage, tiaras, mardi gras bead necklaces, and other outrageous things that Regina did not plan on touching, much less wearing. Needless to say, Regina sat it out, and set up a little impromptu office at a desk she found in a corner near a hallway.

“Here you are,” Emma said after a while. “I was looking for you. You don’t want to win-er, lose- a light-up pin that says ‘I’m with the Bridezilla’ or a light-up tiara to wear later tonight?”

“Too last season,” Regina deadpanned.

“At least have a snack. I – along with what appears to be our private butler for the weekend, a man named Will – we’re heating up some food for lunch,” said Emma.

“I am fairly sure everyone is having a liquid lunch today,” Regina said, eyeing her sister and friends.

“They need to learn to pace themselves. We've got a lot more ahead of us. That’s why it’s time to fill them up with some food. Good, solid, greasy food. C’mon sister of the bride, help me feed these ladies.”

Regina closed her browser and followed Emma reluctantly into the common area, towards a massive gourmet kitchen. “I prefer my lunches to be salads, or fresh fruits and vegetables, if there are any?”

“Nope,” Emma answered, then pointed to something in a tray. “Although there’s garlic in those. Does garlic count as a vegetable?”

“Vaguely,” Regina grumbled, sitting at the counter next to the tray with the garlic-filled things, which happened to smell absolutely delicious. “What are they?”

“Garlic knots,” Emma said. “They’re so good. We ordered lunch from one of my favorite places in Vegas.”

“They do smell good,” Regina admitted.

“Have one,” Emma urged.

Regina shook her head, and took a sip of water from a bottle. “No. I happen to work in an industry that’s not kind to aging women with increasingly terrible metabolism. I can’t just down a bunch of garlic knots for lunch.”

“Aging?” Emma asked, pulling out another tray from where she’d been keeping it warm in the oven. “I doubt you really have to worry about that right now. What are you, 30?”

Regina looked up at her suspiciously. “Add a few years.”

Emma presented her with yet another tray. “Blooming onions with garlic-chili or honey mustard sauce?”

“Absolutely not,” Regina said, recoiling. She actually hated onions.

“Then take a knot. They’re good, and they’re not going to kill you unlike these onions. Especially not in one weekend.”

Regina reached for a plate and reluctantly took one. She sunk her teeth into it and- it was perfection. Pure, steamy, buttery, garlicky perfection. 

“Well?” Emma asked. “How was it?”

“It’s not the worst thing I’ve ever tasted,” Regina said cooly.

In fact, she observed, it was buttery, garlicky heaven. 

“Well, you have approximately 20 seconds to serve yourself before I tell the squad know it’s time to eat.”

Regina snatched another garlic knot, and slipped back over to her computer.

+

By mid-afternoon, Regina caved for good. She shut off her laptop and joined the group for a glass of white wine. And based on the inane conversation, she made the decision to opt for a second glass. When her sister started to dance, she determined it prudent to reach for a third glass of wine. This time, red.

Suddenly, she was more enthusiastic about going along with the group’s bachelorette antics, and less concerned about her lack of peace and quiet in the penthouse. Late in the afternoon, Ruby had another surprise for them all: dance lessons with a Las Vegas choreographer. By the time they all had to don feathery skirts and headdresses and learn the moves of several classic showgirl dances, Regina was somewhat enthusiastic to join in with the rest of the group.

“Nice feathers,” Emma teased her a little while later when she went into the kitchen for a glass of water - the first after the glasses of wine - and she looked down and realized that several feathers from her showgirl costume had stuck to her designer black skinny jean.

When they went out for dinner around 7 at a loud, busy restaurant with live entertainment – she ordered a lasagna and had a large helping of salad - her unsteady, muddled mind finally regained a bit of clarity thanks to the onslaught of carbs and cheese.

Unfortunately, her sobriety also meant that she began to question her enthusiasm for the group’s next plan: attending a show that Ruby gleefully teased would provide entertainment in more ways than one.

"That sounds ominous," Regina muttered.

“Before we go,” Ruby announced, standing up and waving to get the group’s attention, “We have one more drink.”

A waiter had materialized, carrying a tray full of green drinks.

 “The poisoned green apple,” he announced proudly to the group, who cheered. “Guaranteed to get the bachelorette party night off to a tarty start.”

“We heard you like green,” Ruby said. 

“I dooo, darling,” Zelena cooed approvingly, happily examining the drink that was placed in front of her.

The drinks were so green, they were practically glowing in their glasses.

“Looks aptly named,” Regina muttered to Emma, who had sat next to her at dinner and was sipping slowly on a beer, the first drink Regina had seen her have all day.

The waiter set a glass in front of Regina, and she sniffed it disdainfully.

“You’d better drink that, sis!” Zelena called from across the table. “Bride’s orders, the Maid of Honor has to follow them! Bottom’s up!”

“Ugh,” Regina replied.

“Come on, Regina. When in Rome, do as the…well, Roman bachelorettes would do,” an amused Emma said.

The group of women cheered, clinked their glasses and took a sip. Regina reluctantly sipped from hers, closing her eyes as she did, then recoiled. 

“Not your taste?” Emma commented, amused.

“Absolutely not. I haven’t had anything so horrendous since my first year in college.”

“It kinda looks like something that should come with a warning label,” Emma said.

Regina glanced over, where Emma was casually leaning back in her seat and still nursing her beer. “Wait, how did you get out of having one of these things?” she asked.

“I’m not an official guest. I don’t really feel the need to partake in all of the activities,” she shrugged.

“Oh, please,” Regina said, pushing her glass towards her. “Try it.”

“No,” Emma said, scrunching up her nose.

“You’re at this table. When in Rome, do as the Roman bachelorettes would do,” Regina mocked.

“Touché.” Emma reached for the glass, sniffed it, took a sip and promptly recoiled as much as Regina had.

“Yeah, I definitely do not want to be in Rome right now,” she said, giving the glass back to Regina. Regina pushed it towards the middle of the table, where it could disappear amongst the clutter of bread baskets and empty glasses.

“Not so fast. Maybe you should finish it,” said Emma. “Might help with the next activity Ruby has planned.”

“You mean this mystery show that we’re all going to see?” Regina asked.

Emma nodded, an amused grin forming.

“What do you know about it?” Regina asked.

“Two words. Thunder Mountain.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means you’re seeing an adult-only vaudeville show with exclusively male performers called Thunder Mountain.”

Regina scrunched up her nose in disgust. 

“Why the hell did I give Ruby free reign on this party planning? I knew I should have audited her work,” Regina said.

“What, in between your endless business meetings and deadlines, you were going to go over plans with Ruby about what strip show she was going to take your sister and her eccentric group of friends to?”

Regina groaned. “No, probably not. But is all of this really necessary?”

“You said your sister would want an over-the-top bachelorette party,” Emma reminded.

“I did,” Regina conceded, as the waiter was directed towards her with the dinner bill.

“And it’s pretty much the most classic part of a bachelorette party to see a show where men get really naked,” Emma continued.

Regina glanced at the bill, then passed her Platinum card to the man, who promptly swiped it.

“Lucky me,” sighed Regina.

After the group stumbled out of the restaurant, Ruby handed them all their tickets. The paper tickets were adorned with the photos of several shirtless men who looked like they'd spent the better part of their life popping steroids.

“This shouldn't be legal,” Regina murmured, while the rest of the groups squealed in glee.

“Lighten up," Emma teased lightly. "Wouldn't have thought you'd be such a prude."

Regina scowled. 

"I’ll see you later,” Emma said to her as Ruby directed the fully-energized group towards their next destination.

Regina looked up. “You’re not coming with us to this?”

Emma shook her head and laughed. “It’s not really my kind of show.”

“Right,” Regina said. “Nor is it mine.”

“It’s your sister,” Emma urged. “Go be supportive, you’ve only got about 40 hours left of this weekend. You can do it.”

“Come with us,” Regina pleaded. “You’re the only sane one in this group that I can talk to. And the only sober one,” she said, eyeing the group of women.

Emma laughed. “I actually do already have some plans with friends tonight.”

“Friends? Here?” 

Emma nodded. “Yep. I used to work here, remember? 

“Right. Anna,” Regina said.

“Well, my friends know my real name. But yeah, they’re friends from a few years back. I promised I’d see them while I’m in town. You have fun at the show,” she said, walking away quickly now, and waving, and disappearing into the throngs of people. 

Regina reluctantly followed the group to their next destination.

+

They were seated in a VIP box – who knew such a thing existed at what was essentially a glorified strip show – and served unlimited champagne, which Regina wondered if her stomach could handle at this point after an afternoon and evening of drinking. Still, as soon as she saw the throngs of slightly tipsy women enter and seat themselves around her, wearing bedazzled shirts and flip flops, and she overheard her sister proclaim that she’d go home with one of the men in the show that weekend if it was the last thing she did, Regina gladly accepted a glass of bubbly... just to take the edge off.

+

She wasn’t sure at what point she started to feel nauseous. It was perhaps in the first few minutes of the opening act, which was a cringe-worthy homage to The Lion King. Or maybe it was during the trapeze artist’s performance, or, finally, the men in the cowboy uniforms doing the Can-Can. The room grew blurry around the edges, and she started to feel the lasagna churning in her stomach, the taste of garlic rising in her throat. 

Regina excused herself, pushing her way through the endless row of hollering and cheering women in their flashing pins and bedazzled shoes, and had never felt so glad to burst into a quiet lobby.

“Bathroom?” she asked an usher standing near the doors.

The woman pointed off to the side, and every flashing neon sign making her headache worse, her temples throbbing and nausea still bubbling in her stomach, she finally made it into the ladies’ room.

She stood in a bathroom stall for a few minutes, and as she listened to the hum of an air vent and felt the cool air circulating in the empty room, the nausea subsided. She wished she had some water. That’s all she wanted. Water, and maybe some saltines. She couldn’t think the last time she’d drank - or eaten - so much. Possibly never. And such strange mixtures too. Not a piece of kale or detox juice in front of her all day. Not even something fresh, like an apple. No wonder she felt so horrendous.

When she was confident she was going to make it out without getting sick, she left the stall and washed her hands, then arms, and splashed some cool water on her face – though not too much, she didn’t want to completely remove her makeup – took a deep breath, and went back out into the lobby.

She could step outside, she decided, but as soon as she did, she slightly regretted it. She was still a little tipsy from all of the alcohol, and the heat of the night and the endless neon flashing lights threatened to trigger her nausea again.

She had no idea where she was. She could pull up a map on her phone, she thought, but she wasn’t sure she remembered the name of their hotel to navigate back to. Panache, wasn’t it called? And hidden within a larger hotel. Or behind the hotel. Beyond the long hallway… she wasn’t even sure she had her own key card for the room. 

It would be no good trying to make her way back.

Instead, she decided she needed to think more clearly, and get water. Her throat was parched. She pulled up the maps on her phone and typed in “good coffee.”

She expected some generic coffee chain to pop up, but to her surprise, a block away there was a place called “Only You Café + Bistro.”

Perfect, Regina thought, skimming the first review that popped up, which promised that the café had the BEST coffee in Vegas.

She teetered along the crowded sidewalks and tried to look straight ahead,so she wouldn’t see too many nauseating moving flashing lights, and beelined directly to the massive hotel where Only You was supposedly located.

Five minutes later, she found the little café, tucked away in a small plaza. It was late at night, but all of the stores were open, and Only You was bustling.

The smell of coffee instantly perked her up, and before long, Regina had ordered a large Americano and a whole glass bottle of carbonated water, which was served to her by a waiter in a crisp white shirt. She had never been so happy to see a clothed man in her life.

The Americano, chased with a generous dose of bubbly water, brought her back to life. The café had given her a small plate of little shortbread cookies, and she tentatively nibbled at one. Between that and the water, her stomach was finally settling.

“Regina?”

Regina looked up. For a brief moment, she was completely unsurprised to be sipping coffee and find Emma standing next to her table. But then she realized where she was, and that Emma was with a dark-haired man, about her age, in a plaid shirt. There was also a pretty blonde woman, who was dressed in a blue shirt and sequined skirt, walking towards them.  
“Hey. What are you doing here?” Emma asked, concerned.

“I left the show,” Regina said, her voice cracking a bit. “I felt a little ill.”

“That must have been some show,” Emma said. “We’re just heading out. Wanna join us?” 

“Um, sure,” Regina said, not sure what else to say.

“Great,” Emma said. “Regina, these are two of my old friends, Neal – I met him a long time ago, at my first job back home in California – and Ingrid, also a former coworker, but we met when I worked here in Vegas.”

They all shook hands, and Regina hoped she didn’t look as big of a mess as she felt. 

“Hey, Em, I’ll go grab the car, you wait outside near the West entrance and I’ll pick you up in a few minutes?” Neal said.

“Sure, thanks,” Emma replied.

“And I’m taking off,” Ingrid said. “Nice to meet you, Regina, and enjoy the rest of your weekend here.”

“I don’t mean to impose on your night,” Regina said as she and Emma walked out. “I’m just not sure how to get back to our hotel, perhaps you could point me in the right direction?”

“It’s no big deal. We’re going back to Neal’s place. He makes this great anti-hangover smoothie, perfect after a long night. It’ll have you fixed up in no time.”

“You’re going to Neal’s place?” Regina asked, raising an eyebrow and slowing her pace. “Really, I don’t want to impose at all.”

Emma shook her head. “You’re not, trust me. We’re just old friends. And actually, it’s not exactly Neal’s place. I mean, he rents it. But it’s my house.”

“You own a house here?” 

“It was an investment a bunch of years ago. I hate paying rent, even more than I hate staying in one place. Which is saying a lot. So this house came along, and I fixed it up and planned on flipping it for a profit, but then the housing market crashed and I just held onto it, rented it out to Neal, and I guess it’s basically an investment now,” she said. “Neal’s taken over most of the place, but I still keep a loft area on the second floor for myself, so I have a place to crash when I’m in town.”

“Were you going to stay there instead of our penthouse party house hotel room?” Regina asked.

Emma nodded. “You bet. I told Ruby she could crash there, too, but I guess she has her own friends – and by friends I mean paramour – in town, so she made other arrangements.”

“I feel so left out for not having a whole second life here in Vegas. It would be so much more convenient for those times I don’t want to spend the night with my sister at her bachelorette parties,” Regina said. 

“You don’t really look like you’re in much shape to go back to that hotel,” Regina said. “And I’m sorry to say it, but the night Ruby has planned for everyone doesn’t exactly end with the Thunder Mountain show.”

“Oh, good lord,” Regina said.

“Yeah. Anyways, stay at my place. Relax a bit so you can get back into supportive Maid of Honor mode tomorrow,” Emma said, walking towards a black jeep that had pulled up along the curb.

Regina followed after her. “I really don’t meant to impose,” she said again, not wanting to seem rude, or ruin Emma’s night.

“Get in,” Emma ordered, smiling and opening the backseat door, as she jumped into the passenger seat.

+

Emma’s house – well, her house that was rented by Neal – was nothing that Regina pictured Emma living in. It was small, a ranch style house. It was open and airy, one great room with a little hall that led into what Regina presumed were the bedrooms. There was a stairway that led upstairs to an open loft. There were high floor-to-ceiling windows, and fans that kept the air circulating inside. 

It was also cozy and bohemian: there were musical instruments scattered around, artwork on the walls, blankets and rugs that seemed to have been gathered from a plethora of sources. 

“Sorry for the mess,” Neal said, moving around the living room and picking up guitars and books that were scattered around.

Emma moved towards a vintage record player and put on what sounded like classic, New Orleans jazz. It was easy to listen to. Relaxing.

Neal moved towards the kitchen and got out a blender.

“No drinks for me,” Regina said.

He looked up. “This isn’t an alcoholic drink, don’t worry. It’s my hangover cure. Or, in your case, pre-hangover cure. Don’t worry, nothing weird. It’s mostly ginger and honey and a couple of things that’ll be easy on your stomach and make life more tolerable tomorrow morning.”

Regina raised her eyebrows skeptically. “I’ll give it a try,” she said.

Emma disappeared up into the loft. “Regina, you’ll stay up here,” she called down a few minutes later. “I’ll stay in Neal’s spare bedroom.”

“Good luck finding the bed,” Neal called up. “I’ve been using that room as my computer room.”

“You know I’m not picky about where I sleep,” Emma called back down.

“That’s an understatement,” Neal joked.

“Hey!” Emma called. “That’s the pot calling the kettle black.”

Neal started the blender.

Emma returned downstairs and opened the freezer. 

“Do you have any pizza rolls, or those frozen cheese-stuffed pretzel things? I’m starving.”

“It’s all in there,” Neal said. “Help yourself.”

“Pizza, pretzels, and coffee,” Emma said, dumping a bunch of brown-colored frozen food on a tray and sticking it in the oven, then moving towards the coffee pot. “My kind of midnight snack.”

“Healthy,” Neal commented.

“She eats like my 13 year old son,” Regina chimed in.

“She’s got the taste buds of a kid, always has,” Neal said, smiling.

“You wouldn’t know it from her coffee shop. Swan Song has a good selection of sandwiches, salads, even the baked goods are decent,” Regina said.

“Impressive,” Neal said, looking over at Emma, who was pouring water into the coffee maker. “Wouldn’t have guessed.”

“What do you do, Neal?” Regina asked politely.

“I do the lighting for a show.”

“Please tell me it’s not a show called Thunder Mountain.”

Neal chuckled. “Nope, Cirque.”

“Oh,” Regina said, nodding approvingly.

“Here,” Neal said, handing her a tall glass containing a pale liquid. “This should settle your stomach and mitigate the impact of your marathon drinking today.”

Regina tentatively took a sip out of courtesy, but was pleasantly surprised to discover that it was good. It tasted fresh, with a slightly bitter edge, but not altogether unpalatable. She took another sip.

Meanwhile, Neal and Emma chatted amicably, and filled up the coffee table in the living room with various assorted junk food hot from the oven, and poured big mugs of coffee. The three sat, chatting as the music played next to them.

“So, Neal, perhaps you can tell me about this mystery job Emma had in Vegas?” Regina asked.

Neal shook his head. “I don’t think it’s my story to tell. All I can tell you is that the two of us worked together in a coffee stand in this big-ass company in Silicon Valley in high school-“

“What is with Emma and coffee?” Regina asked, looking over at Emma, who was sitting cross-legged in an large chair and nursing her oversized mug of coffee as she munched on a soft pretzel.

“Pretty sure she just started a coffee shop so she could buy coffee in bulk at wholesale prices,” Neal said.

“Smart decision,” Regina said, nodding. “Anyways, continue. How did you two end up out here?”

“We both wanted to get out of the world we were in: we just saw all of these professionals in a rat race, running in circles, trying to keep up with everything – work, their bosses, colleagues, the latest trends, fashion – everything that Emma and I thought was meaningless. So we packed up an old van and drove out here.”

“Vegas is an odd choice for two people who hate frivolous, shallow things,” Regina commented.

Neal nodded. “Yeah, we’d intended to go further East.”

Emma nodded. “But then we stopped here for a few days, met a few people, and kind of decided to settle in for a while. We both worked as bartenders.”

“I’m sure there are plenty of opportunities for that here,” Regina said.

“After a while we met these people at work, and realized there were ways to make more money, faster, which was pretty appealing in a city that’s kind of crazy expensive for a couple of 20 years olds to live in. So we became bailbondsmen.”

“That’s not a career you hear about every day. Was it dangerous?” Regina asked.

Neal shrugged, but Emma shook her head. “I never felt like I was really in danger. But one thing led to the next, I met a bunch of people, networked, and eventually transitioned into working as a private investigator. That was a bit dicier.”

“I didn’t love that she started doing that,” Neal commented. “I worried about her a lot, actually.”

Emma shook her head. “It wasn’t that bad. But after doing it for a few years, I grew tired of it, the constant stress of it, and yeah, I figured being in that career indefinitely really wasn’t the greatest for my long term well-being and sanity. And my parents were always bugging me to move back home, and eventually I realized I missed them. So I went back home, and took my savings and started Swan Song.”

“You forgot your 9 month stint in a hospital and physical therapy,” Neal said. 

“Yeah, there was that. Let’s just say I got hurt on the job, busted up my back, and had to spend a lot of time in physical therapy. Decided to bow out of the profession before I lost more,” Emma admitted.

“That’s quite the adventure.”

Emma nodded. “I always wanted adventure. You know, I saw my parents slave away at desk jobs my entire life and I knew that wasn’t for me, especially when they were repaid for all their hard work by the bastard execs at the company who laid them off.”

“I can see why it didn’t appeal to you, then.”

“I guess Neal was a good wake-up call, though,” Emma said. “He paid his way through technical college that landed him this pretty good career in showbiz-“

“Managing the lighting for a show isn’t exactly showbiz,” Neal corrected.

“Well, it’s a stable life where you’re probably not going to run across some lunatic who injures you and sends you to physical therapy for the better part of a year. Anyways, I realized maybe I should just try… going home, and lend my parents a hand with things, and my mom’s failing cupcake business gave me the idea to try out a coffee shop instead. Less trendy, lower overhead.”

“It was a good idea,” Regina said. “We didn’t have any decent coffee – or music – for miles and miles before. You saved me from endless bad cups of coffee.”

“See, Emma? Who said having a normal job couldn’t make a difference in lives,” Neal said.

“Very funny,” Emma said, and then turned to Regina. “This guy remembers everything.”

Regina smiled at Neal. “That’s what friends are for.”

They sat in amicable silence for a few minutes, only commenting here and there about the food, the house, and listening to the music. Regina felt herself relax, finally, sinking into the soft couch, and even nibbling at a pretzel. It wasn’t bad, and Neal’s drink had definitely settled her stomach. She also concentrated on drinking the endless glasses of water Emma and Neal kept pouring for her.

As Emma and Neal chatted about music, Regina felt herself drifting off, sleepy from the food, music and pleasant conversation.

“It’s late,” Emma commented finally, noticing Regina sinking further and further down into the couch. “Here, let me show you where you’re staying.”

Regina followed Emma up the stairs to a loft. It wasn’t the most private place, since it was open to the entire downstairs, but it was large and comfortable.

“It’s nice,” Regina said.

Emma shrugged, moving towards the bed and clicking on the bedside lamp. “It’s nothing. I hope it’s comfortable enough. It’s not as… well, you know, fancy as your place.”

“Oh,” Regina said, looking around at the art on the walls: there were paintings, and several dreamcatchers. “I like it. The paintings are nice.”

“Thanks,” Emma said. “I mean, I did them.”

“You painted these?” a surprised Regina said, looking closer at one that was hanging over her bed. It was semi-abstract, though it looked a bit like a desert landscape, filled with bright oranges, blues, yellows and reds. 

“Yeah. I like to paint, though haven’t had a lot of time for it recently. I used to work odd hours so it was a good hobby for random times of the day or night when I wasn’t working.”

“They are really good,” Regina said, still studying the work. 

“Thanks. So, the bathroom’s right at the bottom of the stairs, there are fresh towels in that closet over there-“ she pointed to the far side of the room, “ and basically just help yourself to whatever you need. I’ve got asprin in that drawer by the bed, all the water you can drink downstairs in the water bottle, and there are random shirts in that top drawer, t-shirts, flannel and plaid shirts, probably a sweatshirt, whatever you want to borrow.”

“This is far superior to anything else I would have been experiencing tonight back at the hotel, so thank you,” Regina said, giving Emma a tired smile.  
 “Goodnight,” she said, heading back down the stairs.

“Goodnight, Emma,” Regina said. 

 Emma paused for a moment at hearing “Emma,” smiled to herself, then continued down the stairs.

+

When Regina woke up the next morning, she couldn’t remember where she was.

She blinked a few times, the sun streaming in through windows on either side of the soft bed she was in. She was surrounded by painted dressers that looked vintage, low tables with art supplies, and various trinkets that looked like they had been collected during the course of travels. 

And paintings. Large, colorful paintings. Paintings made by Emma.

Regina sat up, the events of the previous day rushing back. She felt a little dizzy, and grabbed the glass of water on her nightstand. 

She looked down at the bedding she was sleeping in. Soft, worn sheets, a blue quilt. The loft was homey and pleasant and filled with an eclectic, almost bohemian vibe. The feathers from a dreamcatcher fluttered in the draft caused by a ceiling fan.

She took a moment, while sipping on her water, to look at the paintings some more. They were well done. Aesthetically pleasing, yes, but also bright, cheerful. Bold colors and lots of light. They were a little modern for her style, but she liked them nonetheless. They were not like any piece of art she owned.

She heard movement and chatting downstairs, and rolled out of bed, wrapping a throw blanket around herself as she shuffled over a chair where she’d neatly folded last night’s outfit. She was uninterested in putting it back on – her wrinkled dark blue blouse smelled vaguely of food from the restaurant and seemed unappealing, although she could probably tolerate slipping into the black pants for another day. 

She opened the top drawer where she’d found the soft, oversized concert t-shirt she wore to bed last night, and looked through it. Emma had said she could help herself to whatever she found in the drawer, and she located a clean, soft grey scoop-neck t-shirt that didn’t look entirely unwearable.

When she wandered downstairs a few minutes later, she was promptly offered a steaming mug of some of the best coffee she’d ever had by Emma and a bagel by Neal, who was managing the toaster.

“Sleep well?” Emma asked, looking up from the newspaper she was reading.

“Yes, actually,” Regina said, settling down at the table next to her and taking a peek at the business section of the paper. “You have a very comfortable home.”

“Glad to hear it,” said Emma, as Neal joined them, setting a plate with a bagel and cream cheese in front of both of them.

“Shame you’re not at the hotel. They have a great breakfast buffet there,” he said, grinning. “Lots of carbs. Perfect meal to kick off another day of nonstop drinking.”

“Completely unnecessary, as I am never drinking ever again,” grumbled Regina.

“You’ll probably want to spend the night here again, then, knowing what Ruby has planned for tonight,” Emma said.

“What could she possibly do that would top the sophistication and understated elegance of last night?” asked Regina.

“Pool party in the penthouse suite, private DJ until the wee hours, private entertainment if you know what I mean, and if you don’t, well, it involves men dressed like police officers arriving at the door and, uh, ‘arresting’ your sister.”

Regina wrinkled her nose. “Please allow me to stay here.” 

“I’ve got to work a show tonight and promised some friends I’d leave to go camping with them early tomorrow, so I’ll stay with a friend after work," Neal said. "You’ll have the place to yourself tonight and tomorrow morning. Nice and quiet. Should I whip up some more of my hangover prevention juice and leave it in the fridge?”

“Maybe,” Emma said, glancing warily at Regina.

“I swear I’m not drinking again.”

“…just in case,” Emma added.

Neal nodded. “Will do.”

+

“The key to surviving bachelorette parties,” Emma instructed as she drove them back to the hotel after breakfast, “Is to pretend you’re drinking. Always have something in your hand, but everyone else should, in theory, be drinking too much to notice that your drink is the same one, hour after hour. Order something mild, no weird combinations, like a gin and tonic, and spend most of your time holding it, taking the occasional sip here and there to be convincing.”

“Thank you, Ms. Swan, for that enlightening insight.”

“Hey, just trying to help out, and make it so you don’t feel as bad as you did last night. You did not look good.”

“Thanks,” Regina said sharply.

Emma glanced at her quickly. “I mean, you looked ill. Nauseous. As far as your outward appearance, it’s always good, even when you’ve turned slightly green and your eyes are unfocused. Still look good.”

“I don’t know what to say to that. I think that was a compliment?”

Emma sipped ice coffee from her cup and didn’t answer. Even though they’d had coffee with breakfast, Emma insisted on stopping off the highway at one of her favorite coffee joints/diners. Best iced coffee ever, she promised, and bought a tall, milky iced coffee drink for Regina that was a little sweeter than her liking, but not altogether bad.

Emma glanced down at her phone in the center console. “I think I see a text from Ruby. Will you check what she’s up to?”

Regina reached for it and started at the screen. “It says the ladies are feeling like spa visits this afternoon before gearing up for the next phase of the party. I guess you’re free until the extravaganza starts this evening.”

“Wish I’d known, I would have spent more time sleeping in and being lazy this morning,” Emma grumbled.

“I should get some work done,” Regina said, turning to her own phone and opening up her emails.

“What? No, stop that. Put that thing down,” Emma instructed.

“I run a business. A rapidly growing business. I don’t get days off,” Regina pressed.

“So do I. But I also acknowledge that I’m not, like, a robot, and actually deserve a weekend away once in a blue moon,” Emma said.

Regina didn't say anything, but turned off her phone to placate Emma. She gazed out the window. It was bright here, and they were driving past endless houses.

“I never pictured Vegas as having suburbs,” Regina said.

Emma laughed. “There’s got to be some place for all of the people who work at the hotels and shows and casinos to live.”

Emma got onto the highway.

“So, you want to hit up the spa with everyone else?” she asked Regina.

Regina shook her head. “Not particularly. I know I should, and I know that is one event that my sister and I can probably relate to enjoying, but I’m really not in the mood. Besides, it’s hot today, and having a massage or sitting in a steam room or hot tub doesn’t sound appealing.”

“So what are we going to do to kill a few hours?”

Regina glanced down at Emma’s phone, where texts from Ruby were flashing across the screen. “Well, Ruby says she’s going out and about, wants to do some shopping.”

Emma groaned.

“Not a fan of shopping, Miss Swan?”

“I’d rather visit the dentist,” she said.

“I was eyeing a bag last night at the mall we were at. Let’s all meet there,” Regina decided, texting Ruby back.

+

“I miss the days when you two didn’t get along at all,” Emma moaned as she trailed after Regina at the mall they'd met at the evening before. Regina was making her way toward a French designer store with a flamboyant display of bags - each one probably cost more than Emma’s car - and up ahead, she saw Ruby window shopping and already holding a glossy shopping bag in one hand.

“You’re supposed to be at a spa getting mud masks,” Ruby teased as Regina approached.

“I get dragged through the mud enough from my sister as it is, I don’t need to add masks to the equation,” she replied, motioning for them to follow her into the designer store.

“Everything in here is gorgeous,” Ruby sighed, dashing towards a display of colorful scarves.

Regina was heading towards a wall of leather purses, and Emma hesitated, not sure what to do in the place. It was big, noisy, a little bit crowded, and somewhat dark with dance music blasting from every corner. Nothing in the store appealed to her – she walked over to a display of keychains, touched one, and recoiled quickly when she saw the price tag said $295.

“Who shops here?” she muttered, gazing around, expecting to see movie stars or oil tycoons looking around.

She saw Regina talking to a saleswoman about a red purse, and so she slowly made her way over to her.

“And is it Italian leather?” Regina was asking.

 _Who cared what country the leather was from?_ Emma wondered.

“This isn’t as beautiful as the ones I saw in Florence,” Regina continued.

The saleswoman scowled. “I assure you this piece lives up to our exacting craftsmanship…”

“It looks like a red purse to me,” Emma added.

Both woman stared blankly at her.

“But… don’t take my word for it,” she said, holding up two hands in surrender and backing away.

“Thank you,” Regina said to the woman, handing the purse back to her. The saleswoman gave them both sour looks, which Regina haughtily ignored, and motioned to Emma to follow her towards Ruby, who was now examining a rack of leather jackets.

“Why is this designer stuff any better than any other coat or purse that you could find someplace normal?” Emma asked.

“It has to do with the craftsmanship,” Regina said. “I mean, that bag was not the best example – this brand has cheapened and become so commercial in recent years – but for the most part, designers still manufacture their goods in countries where craftsmanship is taught from one generation to the next, where the pieces can be hand made according to tradition, the materials are high quality, and the processes in making them – from softening the leather, to ensuring the color of the piece is perfect – is simply much better than mass-produced items that are sold at most stores,” Regina said.

Emma didn’t have anything to say to that.

“Clothes, accessories, undergarments, these things aren’t just frivolous,” Regina continued, watching Emma, who in turn was eyeing a red leather jacket that Ruby was holding up. “We wear them every day. We spend our entire lives in them. It’s our first, most immediate way of communicating to the world about ourselves when we step outside. And wearing things that are well made, and make you feel good, isn’t that worth something?”

Regina took the leather jacket that Ruby had held up and pushed it towards Emma. “Here. Look at yourself in the mirror.”

Emma held it up, looked, and yeah… the jacket would look awesome on her.

“It suits you,” Regina said.

“You look amazing,” Ruby added.

They looked for a few more minutes, until Ruby moved towards the exit. “Let’s go before I spend the entire amount of money I’m earning off of this weekend gig, and then some. My plan was to invest my earnings back into my business, not just blow it on jackets and scarves.”

“So why did you get into fashion?” Emma asked Regina as they walked back out onto the plaza. “Is it because of what you said? About liking how clothes communicate to the world.”

Regina nodded. “Partially, yes. Clothes made me feel better at times in my life when nothing else really seemed to.”

“I can so relate. For years, every time I broke up with someone, I went out and maxed out my credit card. Terrible habit, but I have a killer wardrobe thanks to all of the asses who dumped me,” Ruby chimed in.

“I guess it helps you impress the next one who comes along,” Emma said.

“Nah, I bought the clothes for myself.” Ruby said.

“Exactly,” Regina said. “Clothes aren’t for other people. They shouldn’t be, at least. They’re for how they make you feel… the experience you have wearing them, your own personal enjoyment. If other people happen to notice and like it too, well, that’s just a bonus.”

“I guess I can see where you’re coming from,” Emma said, as Ruby steered them toward the next store - this one with an Italian name.

“But to finish answering your question,” Regina continued, “that’s not really the reason I started Forbidden. I actually liked clothes, and I liked the science behind them – especially behind lingerie. I liked the challenge of designing and selling a product that is both necessary and exciting for women. It’s an essential item that we all need, but also just a bit fun, and a bit frivolous. Maybe a little devious.”

“Devious would be a great name for a lingerie line,” Ruby mused. 

“Most of all, I love having my own business. I liked building it, perfecting it, growing it. I like having a little empire of my own,” Regina said.

Emma nodded. “I never liked working for other people, either.”

“Oooh, look at these dresses!” Ruby said, directing them towards a display in the French store's window. “Gorgeous. Let’s go in.”

Regina studied them. They were nice, black, slender-fitting, with leather trim.

Ruby took down a red one with leather trim and held it up to herself in the mirror. “Everything about this is me,” she said. 

Regina gravitated towards a dark blue one with a zipper along one side.

“That would really look good on you,” Ruby urged.

Regina shook her head. “I have no place to wear it. Definitely not workplace friendly.”

“You work with lingerie, what exactly is the protocol for workplace-friendly attire in your world?” Emma asked, an eyebrow raised.

“It’s not short leather dresses, I can tell you that.”

“Leather would be a different kind of lingerie altogether,” Ruby added, holding the dress up to Regina.

Regina took it. Ruby already had filled her arms with three dresses. “Come on, let’s try them on.”

“That looks damn good on you,” Ruby commented a few minutes later when they both emerged from their dressing rooms, Regina in the deep midnight blue and black one with the zipper.

“I have the wrong kind of shoes on,” Regina said, looking down at the heels she wore to work all of the time.

“Here,” Ruby said, sliding off her mile-high sparkly silver heels. 

Regina looked at the shoes disdainfully. She didn’t exactly make a habit of wearing other peoples’ clothes, and certainly not shoes. But Emma and Ruby were looking at her expectantly, and she supposed she was in the middle of some sort of bonding moment that was going shockingly well. She couldn’t remember the last time she bonded with someone outside of work or - well, flings. Bonding, in a friendly way. Not wanting to ruin it, she didn’t say anything, took them, slid then on, and…

“Much better,” she said, studying her reflection in the mirror.

“Get that dress,” Ruby ordered. 

Regina turned in front of the mirror and studied herself. The dress was really good.

She glanced over at Emma, and based on the places where Emma’s eyes were lingering... told her everything she needed to know.

She decided to get the dress.

The three of them emerged from the store, thirty minutes later, and Ruby was asking Emma if she was sure she didn’t want to buy anything.

 “I’m good with my jeans,” Emma promised her.

Ruby had also decided to walk out of the store with a new, strappy leather-trimmed dress, though hers was in red.

“Now to find the right occasion to wear this to,” Regina said.

“Tonight,” Ruby answered. “It’s the perfect event to wear sinful dresses like the ones we just bought. And speaking of sin, it’s time to go back to the hotel so we can meet the bachelorette group when they return. Their spa break is almost over, and they’ll be all refreshed and ready to dive headfirst into some more debauchery.”

“Couldn’t they just have spent the rest of the day at the spa?” asked Regina.

“Regina had a little too much to drink last night,” Emma explained.

“Well, what did you expect, we’re in Vegas,” Ruby teased as they all got into the car.

“Vegas is clearly for people who don’t have a 9am meeting on Monday with suppliers in India and a 10am meeting on web marketing,” muttered Regina.

“That’s almost two whole days away. Can’t you just let work go this weekend?” said Emma, pulling out of the parking garage.

“Your stuff is really good, Regina. I’ve stopped in your store a few times after work,” Ruby said. 

“Thank you."

“You know… my cousin is a stylist in New York and has a good online following. Instagram especially. He also does tv shows, photoshoots, styling for magazines. He gets lots of clothes sent to him all of the time by designers eager to have him photograph their stuff, but if you wanted to send him a few of your things, I’ll let him know to look for it. He’ll be more likely to take a look if I give him a heads up,” Ruby said.

“Really?” Regina tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “Of course, I'll send him some things. That would be appreciated.”

“I’ll text you his contact information,” Ruby said, “And I’ll let him know to watch for something from Forbidden.”

“Okay, enough shop talk. We’ve got to go back to the hotel and get this Saturday night party started,” Emma cut in. 

“Wonderful,” muttered Regina, the high of the shopping trip, and the slightly unnerving, but pleasant, experience of shopping with friends (were they her friends?) starting to wear off at the prospect of rejoining her sister and the bachelorette shenanigans.

“My goal tonight is not to need Neal’s hangover cure,” Regina said.

Emma glanced at her and smiled. “He texted me to say there’s plenty in the fridge back home if you need it.”

“Back home?” Ruby asked. “So that’s where you were last night - Emma’s.”

Regina and Emma didn’t reply. Regina glanced back at Ruby and saw her grinning to herself.

"Back to the grind," Ruby said a few minutes later as they pulled into the valet parking for Panache and someone opened her door. "I'm loving this job."

+

Regina woke up. She kept her eyes closed for a few minutes. The bright sun was shining through a nearby window and she didn’t quite feel like opening her eyes to face the day yet.

She tucked the soft sheet closer under her chin, and rolled onto her back, sighing to herself.

And then, she felt something she hadn’t felt in a while.

Someone moved next to her in the bed.

She paused, immobile, afraid to move, but popped her eyes open.

_Where was she?_

The light filtered through her eyelashes while she blinked, and the first thing she noticed was a vividly colored painting on the wall of the room she was in.

She was back in Emma’s room.

More small movements next to her. She barely breathed, as though any movement on her part would call attention to the situation. In her half-awake state, she struggled to recall the events of last night. 

She slowly looked over toward the other side of the bed, and noticed a long sweep of blonde hair splayed out across the pillow. Somewhere underneath the covers, her companion was stirring.

And then the events of the night before came back to her.


	8. Free

**11:00, the previous night**

“You aren’t drunk, Regina, are you?” Emma asked, her eyes glimmering and her mouth half-curled into an amused smile.

Regina held up her half-empty glass. “Not tonight. Not from a half of a gin and tonic that I’ve been pretending to sip for the past three hours.”

“Now you’re getting the hang of it.”

“It would appear I am,” Regina said, raising her voice as the music crescendoed, the beat reverberating through the penthouse. All around them, Zelena’s friends were dancing, drinking, and laughing. 

“Having fun, sis?” her sister asked, walking past her, a full glass of red wine in hand. “You don’t look boring, for once.”

Regina decided she would accept that as one of the few compliments her sister had ever given her.

She watched as her sister was shuffled towards two men, dancers hired to add some liveliness - and variety - to the party, giving Zelena’s mishmash group of friends something to focus on other than the constant flow of booze.

Regina had to admit that, while watching her sister get lots of attention from two greased-up male strippers dressed as policemen might have been a scene that was straight out of a million really horrible, cliched movies, it was still entertaining - and best of all, a delightful source of blackmail material. She took several pictures, just in case they might ever come in handy.

Although having said pictures would be contingent on ever getting her phone back. Later, her sister caught her looking at her phone, grabbed it out of her hands, and threw it into a container with a palm tree in the garden.

“No more of this,” Zelena called out over the music, slurring her words slightly. “You’re never going to get a bachelorette party of your own unless you give up this damn phone. Come with me.”

Zelena and one of her friends - Regina thought her name was Dorothy - pulled her into the fray of music and her giddy friends and the hired dancers. Regina reluctantly found herself amongst a lot of bodies, hands, and swaying hips.

Regina humored her sister for a while, but when Zelena inevitably became distracted by one of the dancers, Regina found the opportunity to edge out of the fray of people. As she did, she noticed Emma off to the side, looking at her phone for once. She realized that she hadn’t seen Emma do anything all night other than sip a drink or two and chat on the sidelines. 

Regina studied her for a moment. Such a shame for her to spend the whole evening as a wallflower.

Regina walked up to Emma, took the phone, and, her eyes shining gleefully, gently tossed it into a nearby pot of flowers.

“Not tonight, Ms. Swan,” she said firmly, speaking loud enough to be heard over the music, and, taking her hand, pulled Emma with her into the mix of people.

At first, they danced carefree and friendly, Emma laughing and rolling her eyes and shaking her head but ultimately playing along and swaying with the rest of the group. After a while, in a moment that felt like it should have played out in slow motion, one of Zelena’s shirtless dancers accidentally bumped Regina from behind. Regina was awkwardly nudged closer to Emma. Out of instinct, Emma reached out and caught her.

There was a moment, then, when both of their eyes met. As soon as Regina found her balance again, Emma let her go.

Then, Regina reached out and pulled Emma back towards her, so they could continue dance. This time, in closer proximity. 

Emma seemed caught off guard for a moment by the gesture. Unsure. She looked nervously at Regina, but the determination in Regina’s eyes told her all she needed to know. For a moment, Regina had a hand on each of Emma’s shoulders. One of her hands dropped, finding Emma’s hand and squeezing it reassuringly.

Emma relaxed.

They stayed that way until the music shifted again a minute or two later and that all-too brief spell was broken. Emma excused herself, and before Regina could follow, disappeared.

**Midnight**

Eventually, the party entered a stage when everyone lost track of time. The music, the laughter, the booze, the view, the antics of the hired dancers, who would occasionally put on a bit of a performance just to keep things interesting, providing worthwhile distractions and endless entertainment.

It was the part of the night where one song that the DJ played blended into the next, and everyone became a little bleary-eyed from the hours of drinking, dancing and generally existing in a low-light atmosphere, punctuated only by the flashes from the colorful dance lights that had been strategically placed around the room. 

Regina still had not had much to drink. She spotted Emma again after Emma had wandered off after her dance, and she hated herself for trying to sneak glances at the woman, watching her as she talked with Ruby, and then Dorothy, laughed at some joke the three shared, grabbed a few tortilla chips from the array of snacks set up in the kitchen, then sashayed into another room, disappearing from Regina’s view. 

Regina brushed her hand through her hair. She cursed her eyes for constantly being drawn towards the woman. It was irritating. But impossible to control. 

She felt like she hadn’t felt in a long time.

It was more than her usual feeling when she noticed something - someone - she wanted. She typically enjoyed the cat and mouse game, the chase. The challenge of trapping her prey, the exquisite satisfaction when she finally did.  
 But Emma was different. Some primal part of Regina still instinctually wanted to play cat and mouse with her. And Emma seemed to know that - was game for it, even.

But she also appreciated that Emma was her own person, and it was very clear that she would be just fine if Regina never looked at her twice.

The game was very different this time. If it could even be called a game. Maybe not.

Because there was something that made Regina uneasy. It was the way that Emma did so much for her. Took a genuine interest in her. Regina wasn’t used to having friends outside of work, and wasn’t sure how to manage it. Or why she even deserved it. She wasn’t used to that kind of attention, and she wasn’t sure she liked it. 

Trying to forget about Emma for a moment, Regina turned her focus elsewhere and noticed Zelena getting a little too flirty with one of the men - not a dancer, but the bartender. She decided she simply did not want to know where that was going, and so she walked outside. Time for some fresh air.

After a night of dancing, gamely participating in conversations with Zelena’s inane friends and halfheartedly participating in a variety of spontaneous drinking games, it must now be after midnight. Regina decided her sister and friends were content and thus her maid of honor duties had officially been fulfilled for the night. A waiter passed with a tray of glasses of champagne, and she took one. She was letting herself off the hook for the rest of the night.

As she leaned against the railing, looking out across the sparkling, light-filled view beyond, of flashing signs and neon lights and massive, larger-than-life hotels, she heard footsteps behind her. 

“Still faking the drinking?” Emma asked.

Regina quickly composed herself, shook her head and held up the glass. “I believe my duties are done for the day, so I am capping off the night with something real.”

Emma raised a glass she was holding, and they clinked them together.

“Tonight, I think I’m actually enjoying myself. Almost, at least,” Regina commented.

“Almost?” Emma was leaning against the rail next to her and looking out at the view.

They were on the far end of the terrace, separated from the party by a pool. The blue water was sparkling in the dark, the lights underneath the surface of the water casting a soft, luminescent glow over them.

“I haven’t had as terrible of a time as I thought I would,” Regina admitted. “And I haven’t thought - or even worried - about work for hours.”

“That is an accomplishment,” Emma said, raising her glass again. “Glad you found a distraction.”

“Ms. Swan?”

“Yeah?”

“Why… all of this?” Regina asked, standing up straight and gesturing around to the city, the penthouse, the music.

“What do you mean?”

Regina took a deep breath, and dropped her voice.

“Your idea that I have Ruby plan the party. Your help every step of the way, even coming along with us. Your general support, when I am fairly certain you could have chosen a million more appealing things to do with a free weekend than this.”

Emma shrugged. “It’s nothing.”

Regina looked her in the eyes and pursed her lips.

Emma stilled under Regina’s gaze.

“It’s not nothing.”

Emma didn’t reply. She looked back out over the view, a light breeze making her long, soft blonde hair flutter slightly around her shoulders.

Slowly, steadily, Regina reached towards Emma. Her hand found hers. It was soft, yet strong. 

And as they laced their fingers, standing in the cool night air, they both knew it wasn’t nothing.

“I’ve never really had a lot of friends,” Emma said quietly. “I wanted to help out because I consider you a friend. And I think that things kind of turn out great when the two of us collaborate. On turnovers. Or parties.”

“Oh. I see. You were just being friendly. A good neighbor,” Regina said, a teasing smile playing across her lips as the breeze lifted her hair around her shoulders.

“Stop,” Emma breathed. “It’s not like that. I really don’t have ulterior motives.”

Regina was still holding her hand. “Oh, I know. I can tell you’re being genuine, Ms. Swan. And I do appreciate everything you do.”

She paused.

“But I also feel - over these past few weeks - you flatter me with your attention,” she said, moving closer still. “And I don’t need flattery.”

“Sorry,” Emma said, staring at Regina, her heart racing in her chest as she wondered what the woman would say next.

“I don’t like someone serving me all of the time. I don’t want to be the needy neighbor, the needy friend, the needy single mom next door and has to have help all the time,“ Regina said, her eyes narrowed and voice low.

“I don’t think any of that,” Emma said.

Regina ignored her. “I like to help. Contribute. When someone does things for me, too many things for me, I feel like I am indebted to them. That need to repay them. And I don’t like that feeling.”

“That’s not how-“ Emma started, but faltered slightly. “-things work. That’s not how I see it. Or you.”

Regina didn’t answer at first. She studied Emma for a moment, and Emma held her breath.

“You make me nervous, Ms. Swan,” Regina said a low voice, and finally let go of Emma’s hand.

Regina walked away, leaving Emma outside, alone.

**1:30am**

“What was that all about?” hissed Ruby a few moments later, restocking a table with clean glasses, pitchers of water and various snacks: chips, guacamole, salsa.

“I don’t know,” Emma said honestly.

“Is Regina - is she flirting with you?”

“I really don’t know,” Emma repeated.

“It sure looked like you were,” Ruby said. “Well, what are you waiting for? Go after her.”

“After her? Where did she go?” 

Ruby nodded towards the door. “I saw her leave. I don’t know. But she couldn’t have gotten far.”

+

Emma got into the elevator. It appeared to have returned to the penthouse from the lobby. Maybe Regina was trying to leave the building. Where was she going? It would be impossible to find her in the vast hotel-within-a-hotel complex they were surrounded by if she had already left the lobby of Panache.

Emma felt like she was in the elevator forever. Finally, she reached the ground floor and stepped out. She glanced around her. The lobby was relatively quiet at the late (or was it early?) hour, and there was hardly anyone around.

She thought she saw movement beyond a glass door. She went outside, into the night, and found herself in a small courtyard, dimly lit, with a small, illuminated fountain casting sparkling flecks of light onto the surrounding walls.

Emma stepped into the courtyard, and saw Regina pacing around the fountain, clearly lost in thought.

Emma didn’t say anything. Regina stopped, stared, and slowly walked over to Emma. Reached her. Stopped for a moment, studying her. Opened her mouth to say something.

And then she firmly kissed her.

+

Emma stumbled a bit in surprise, but recovered quickly. Regina continued to press herself toward her, maintaining the kiss for a moment, but then pulling back for just a split second. Emma had just enough time to acquiesce and lean into her, urging a second kiss. Emma closed her eyes and felt herself get lost in it, lost in the sensation of her, of being here, in this moment.

Finally, Emma pulled away. 

“What is it?” Regina asked quietly.

“Are you sure?” Emma breathed, trying to read her expression.

Regina bit her bottom lip and nodded. 

“You really didn’t have too much to drink, or anything?” Emma asked, worried.

Regina laughed lightly. “No, I have not. I know what I’m doing.”

Emma smiled. She leaned in and they continued to kiss.

+

They stayed that way for a long while, in the quiet, secret courtyard. It was their own world, and they were lost in the night and the unfamiliar, but cozy, surroundings.

“We’re going to eventually have to leave,” Regina reluctantly noted after they had been there for what could have been hours. Or maybe it had only been minutes.

“I don’t think I can go back upstairs,” admitted Emma.

“Me neither,” Regina agreed.

“So… we’re here,” Emma stated.

They stayed that way, still, for a while, thigh touching thigh, shoulder touching shoulder, hands interlaced, afraid to move, afraid to break the magic.

But finally, they were forced to re-enter reality when a group of three women stumbled into their private, quiet little courtyard, talking loudly and waving their phones.

“We’re in Vegas,” Regina whispered after they were awaken from their reverie, touching her forehead to Emma’s. “It’s probably only two in the morning. There’s still plenty of time left in this night.”

Their faces still flushed and eyes glimmering with anticipation, they stood up and ventured into the night.

**2:25 am**

They spent some time walking. They had little conversation, but the invisible electricity in the air between them spoke louder than any conversation topic they could come up with. Both felt it - the energy, the connection, that completely unexplainable draw they had to each other. Both knew that what had just happened hadn’t been something that would be easily ignored this time. 

Both were desperate to find out what would happen next. Neither wanted the night to be over. Both were on a high. Both new decisions would have to be made soon, but they were enjoying a brief respite, enjoying the night and the strange surroundings alone, together.

“I don’t want to be boring,” Regina declared after they’d walked a while, and they stood on a sidewalk, somewhere, she’d lost track of where they’d gone. They were surrounded by neon, by flashing lights, by people walking, shouting. By noise and music.

“You are not boring,” Emma assured her in a serious tone.

Regina didn’t respond, put a hand on her hip, surveying her surroundings. There were casinos, gambling. But she didn’t think that would make for a more exciting night.

Then another sign caught her eye.

“Tattoos?” Emma asked, following her gaze. “Trust me, you do not want to do that.”

“Why not?” Regina asked, “It would be a unique way to remember a very unique weekend. I’d always have something to prove that I can let go.”

“Yeah, but you really permanently want that on your skin?”

Regina sighed. “What’s a little one? To prove that I am not a complete bore, as my sister likes to tell me I am?”

“You don’t need to do something like that to prove it,” Emma said, her hand resting gently on her arm.

Regina glanced down at it, and saw a small tattoo of a flower peeking on Emma’s wrist.

“Says the woman with tattoos,” Regina said.

“Yeah, but I thought about this one, planned it for a while…” Emma protested. “Look, it’s up to you if you get a tattoo, but first, I really need food.”

“What do you suggest?” Regina asked.

“There’s a good burger joint nearby. 24 hours. Do you do burgers and fries once in a while? You know, the food that most people consider a delicious alternative to salads?”

“I know what a burger is, and yes, I do eat them,” Regina said.

“See? More proof you’re not a bore,” Emma teased.

“I’m adjusting to this Vegas thing. A night that included my sister being arrested by a stripper, public displays of affection, seriously considering a tattoo and then burgers. I think I’m ready to do anything at this point,” she said.

“Anything?” Emma said mischievously. “I might just keep that in mind for later.”

Regina swallowed nervously, and tried to give her a stern look, but Emma noticed that there was a certain softness, perhaps even nervousness, about her reaction.

They grabbed burgers to go from Emma’s burger joint, and sat outside near some fountains for one of the hotels, watching the people walk by in the night, mulling around, taking pictures even in the late hour. There were groups doing everything: one group was jogging, another group was walking, zombie-like, towards the a hotel.

“These are delicious,” Regina confessed, stealing a few fries from the pile that Emma had bought as a side for them to share.

Emma grinned. “They’re my favorite in Vegas. Some of my favorite in the country.”

“Everyone’s big idea of rebelling and going wild is getting drunk and watching naked people strut across a stage, but true rebellion to me is eating a cheeseburger and fries at three in the morning,” Regina sighed after she finished the last of the greasy burger, slouching back on the bench, and admiring the view around - the people, the fountains, the lights - enjoying the utter bliss of detachment.

Emma looked at Regina. She looked so pretty in the soft, low light at night, her hair slightly disheveled from the evening, her dress hugging her body tightly, some of her harsh makeup worn off, looking natural and easy.

“We have to move from this bench eventually,” Emma said, tearing her eyes away from Regina to watch another group of men stumble down the sidewalk, a group of laughing and chatting women not far behind.

“I suppose I should be a good sport and go back,” Regina said.

“Or, they’ll all be too trashed to even notice you’re there at this point,” Emma pointed out. 

Regina looked at her, while debating the options, but mostly, she noticed it again - that electricity in the air between them.

“You can sleep at my place again tonight if you want.” Emma said, trying to sound casual, but her voice catching slightly.

Regina paused.

Objectively speaking, the offer to go back to Emma’s instead of the party penthouse was tempting - very tempting. But also, considering the events of the evening, far more complicated than last night. They’d just spent the last little while in a blissful haze, and she wasn’t sure either of them were ready for what might come next. 

Emma sensed her hesitation. “No pressure. It’s just a quiet haven from the penthouse.”

Regina nodded, making up her mind at that. Somehow convincing herself that it could all be innocent between them. Ignoring that surge of electricity.

“Let’s go, then.”

**3:50 am**

“So, you know your way around now,” Emma said quietly, stating the obvious, turning on a small lamp near the door after they got back to Emma’s place.

It was nearly 4, and the night was at its darkest. It would be dawn soon, Regina thought vaguely. 

Emma slowly walked into the house. Regina dropped her purse on a chair near the door. It was nearly morning, but neither of them felt tired after their middle-of-the-night jaunt.

“Something to drink?” Emma offered vaguely, heading towards the kitchen.

Regina didn’t reply, just followed her. When they reached the kitchen, Emma didn’t turn on any lights, but opened the fridge, casting a strip of light briefly while she removed a pitcher of Neal’s special tonic from the fridge.

“You don’t seem to be in nearly as much need of it as you were last night, but hey, the stuff tastes decent and better safe than sorry, right?” Emma was saying quietly. Nervously. 

Regina focused on the way Emma moved, studied her as she took out two glasses, and set them next to each other, and poured the drink into them. Regina smiled subtly to herself at the way Emma’s hair draped around her shoulders, the way her eyes sparkled as she talked. She wanted to memorize everything about her.

“Emma?” Regina asked finally, touching her on the shoulder as she poured the two glasses.

“Yes?” Emma asked, setting down the pitcher and turning.

“The only thing I’m intoxicated with, is…”

And she finished that thought with a kiss.

Urgently this time, she pressed toward her more intimately than they had in the courtyard, her whole body seemingly trying to merge with the other woman. There was an urgency about the way she kissed, but also a firmness.

Emma responded for the briefest second by freezing, but settled into the kiss quickly. She let Regina take control here, enjoying her enthusiasm.

Both knew, with quite a bit of certainty, what came next.

Regina heard Emma groan softly as she felt the woman’s tongue dance along her own. The intimacy shared between the two was comfortable, satisfying and yet, made them both even thirstier.

Regina pressed Emma against the kitchen cabinets and counter, vaguely wondering, through her reverie, how the blonde might look bent over the counter, what sounds she would make… her mind was racing as Emma took back control, gently urging Regina towards the living room. She slowly navigated the two of them to the couch, where she urged Regina to lay down on her back. Regina complied, and from there, in that position of both passion and vulnerability, underneath the other woman… it was clear, very clear, extremely clear, that there was no going back.

Regina moaned slightly as Emma moved her lips down to her jaw, her collar, and then, urging Regina to sit up slightly, wrapped her hands around her back in search of the zipper for the dress.

“Are you - is this - okay?” Emma whispered.

Regina nodded, her eyes closed, already lost to the moment and to the sensations. “Yes. Very.”

“I want you,” the blonde woman said, and from that moment on, their words were few and far between, as the dress came off, and Emma’s shirt and jeans were also eventual victims of their wandering hands, kisses, trailing lips and explorations on the couch. Eventually, Emma shifted lower, and lower, until the sounds of Regina’s whimpers, sighs and heavy breathing were all that she needed to guide her through the rest of the night.

**10:30 am**

As memories of the previous night - or, technically, it all had happened earlier that morning - flooded back to Regina’s mind, she recalled flashes and snapshots of the time they had spent in that dark part of the night. They had been awake, exploring, smiling, laughing, moaning, all the way until the sun was well above the horizon and the birds were singing. At some point, both women had been completely sated and were slightly delirious at not having slept at all. Or even having been in bed.

Indeed, most of their activities had been anywhere but the bed. And Regina had indeed found out, at one point in the night, what Emma looked like bent over the counter, and the light moans she made as Regina coaxed her to climax.

They finally fell asleep in bed, and a few hours later, Regina woke up.

She didn’t breathe as the memories returned to her after a few moments, and she lay still, the sounds of the woman breathing next to her soothing. She was basking in the fact that she felt more relaxed than she had in months. She lay there for a while, not wanting it to ever dissipate.

But eventually, she grew restless.

She gently got out of bed. Emma stirred, but didn’t seem to wake up. Regina tiptoed over to the dresser to find something to put on, just in case someone came back - Neal, or whomever - and then went in search of her phone.

After searching through her purse, she remembered - it had been tossed into a planter back at the penthouse.

It bothered her, suddenly, to be cut off from her phone. Her email. What if Henry had sent her a message?  
 She went downstairs, and did a quick survey of the room. There was a MacBook on an end table near the couch. She figured it was probably poor form to be in someone’s house and use their computer, but she really was desperate to at least check her email.

“Trying to find out my deepest, darkest secrets?” Emma called down sleepily from the loft a few minutes later.

Regina looked up at her, sheepish. “I’m sorry. I just forgot my phone. It’s in a planter back at the hotel. I want to check my email, make sure Henry hasn’t sent me anything.”

“You’ve done pretty well without that thing for - what, 11 hours? What did you find to do to distract yourself for all of that time?” Emma smirked, walking downstairs and heading to the couch, where she kissed her good morning - a quick, sweet peck, her blonde hair brushing Regina’s cheeks.

“The computer’s got a password on it,” she pointed out. “You’re gonna need me to unlock it.”

She typed something in.

“There. I’ll go make coffee.”

“Thank you,” Regina said, relieved as she loaded her email.

Emma turned on the radio and started to make coffee, Regina sinking into the couch in the sun-filled room, scrolling through her inbox.

There was an email from Henry, but it was just a photo of a hike he’d taken yesterday with Daniel’s cousin and Daniel’s cousin’s kids, who were slightly younger than Henry. She smiled, writing him back, promising she’d see him that night.

She scrolled through some of her work emails. It was too tempting; her email inbox had nearly a hundred new emails since Friday, not including the spam, junk and advertisements. She was clicking through a few, and then she read one in particular that made her nearly drop the laptop in surprise.

“What is it?” Emma turned, hearing Regina make a strange sound.

“I have to go to Paris,” Regina said, re-reading the email.

“What? Wow. When?”

Regina read the emails. “It’s to meet with a buyer - a huge department store - I’ve been trying to get their attention for months. They want to meet with me this coming week. I have to book a flight now.

“Now? Are you serious?”

“I am,” Regina said, clicking over to the airline website as soon as she understood exactly when they wanted to meet with her.

“Wow. Well, I guess we’re all going home today, so the timing’s good at least.”

She stopped searching for plane tickets for a moment, stood up, and wandered over to the woman.

“Last night,” she said quietly to Emma and reaching out to rest her hands on the other woman’s waist, “was one of the best I’ve had in a long time. and I mean that in more than one sense.”

She looked into Emma’s eyes.

“Thank you, Emma,” she said, pausing after she said the woman’s first name, savoring how it sounded as it escaped her lips, “For getting my mind out of my world and into yours. I needed this. And I didn’t even know I needed this.”

Emma gave her a smile. “Anytime.”

“And Emma?”

“Hm?”

“Thanks for talking me out of getting a tattoo last night.”

Emma laughed.

Regina kissed her, and returned to the laptop.

“You can come with me. To Paris,” Regina said as Emma brought her coffee, continuing her search for tickets.

Emma shook her head. “What would I do there?”

“Come with me. You can stay with me, see the sights. Let me show you my world. Well, at least what I like so much about my work.”

“I don’t have a passport,” Emma confessed.

“Oh.” Regina paused. “You should really get one. It would give us more flexibility in the future, just in case we want to go on a little escape.

“Okay,” Emma said uncertainly. 

“I’ll be back in a week,” Regina assured her, confirming a booking for a ticket leaving that night.

Emma nodded. “I’m glad for you. But for now, you’re still here, so let’s have some coffee and something to eat before you jet set away.”

“Deal,” Regina said, turning her focus back to the beautiful blonde who had plopped onto the sofa next to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for your kind notes, reviews and kudos! I am humbled and flattered to hear that you are enjoying this story.


	9. Facts

Regina returned home that afternoon with everyone else. She was relieved to see Henry, but then faced the task of apologetically breaking the news that she had to leave for work and he’d be staying with relatives. 

"You're going to be gone again?" he asked, his mouth dropping open at the news.

Regina let out her breath and closed her eyes for a second. She felt a pang of guilt, and a pang of sadness at the hurt in his voice. "I'm sorry, Henry. I have some important meetings set up. I really need to go."

"Can I go with you?"

"I don't think so. You need to go to school."

He scowled at that. "I wish you weren't always leaving! You're always at work, or traveling, or doing something!" 

He stormed upstairs.

"Please be packed up by four o'clock!" she called after him.

Her moping son shut away in his room, Regina decided it was a good time to stop by the shop and her office to pick up a few things she needed. She filled the better part of one of her two suitcases with many, many samples from her studio. She also gave Belle instructions to mail Ruby’s cousin a few pieces in the hopes that he might feature some of her items on social media, if he was as influential as Ruby said. Anything to promote her work.

She caught a flight to Paris that evening. As the plane gradually climbed in altitude and the sun set into the ocean behind her, she informed the flight attendant passing out dinner menus that she didn’t want to be disturbed until they served breakfast. As she pulled a sleeping mask over her eyes, she felt the magic that had surrounded their weekend dripping away behind her. She couldn't believe that early that very morning she’d been cozied up with Emma on the couch sipping coffee. It seemed like an eternity ago.

Back at Swan Song, Emma also felt the spark and intimacy from the weekend dissipate right away. The first sign of it was that their communications devolved into quick texts.

Monday, 6pm Central European Time   
_Landed. I’ll miss your coffee this week. R._

Monday, noon Pacific  
 _Knock their French socks off this week, Regina._

Tuesday, 1pm Central European Time  
 _On my way to afternoon meeting. Hope your week is going well._

Now that was a little impersonal, Emma thought when she saw the text in the morning, scowling slightly, before typing out a warm reply.

But it was better than what came the day after. The next day she didn’t get any texts at all.

Emma happened to see Henry that day when he dropped by after school.

“I missed the grilled cheese,” he explained, sitting down at the counter.

“Hey, kid,” Emma said, glad to see him, and a few minutes later she brought him a plate of grilled cheese with a small side of potato chips and tossed salad. “On the house.”

“Thanks,” Henry said, glancing up from his video game to inhale the plate of food.

“Who are you staying with while your mom’s away?” Emma asked.

“My grandma. My dad’s mom. She lives kinda far away, but it’s just a train ride,” he replied.

Emma knew she shouldn’t fish for details about Regina from Henry… something about it didn’t feel right. But the minimal texts, the abrupt departure, and the fact that her mind generally could not get off of the woman, she couldn’t resist. 

She tried to sound casual as she asked, “Have you heard anything from your mom?”

Henry shook his head. “Not much. She’s in a lot of meetings.”

“I’ll bet. Let me know if you need anything,” Emma said, disappointed, though unsurprised, at the lack of news.

+

“You’re staying late a lot this week,” Ruby commented later that night after the shop had closed and she was putting away a few dishes, wiping up tables, and organizing things for the next morning. 

“Yeah, I’ve got some stuff to catch up on after Vegas,” Emma said as she typed on her laptop in her office.

“Like emailing a certain brunette?” Ruby asked.

Emma looked at the emails she was sorting through - invoices, ads, junk. Nothing very exciting.

“Not many of those to reply to,” Emma grumbled.

Ruby paused. “It’s not like you to just mope around. What’d she do, give you the cold shoulder in Vegas?”

“Not exactly,” Emma said slowly, studying the computer screen. 

“Far be it for me to stick my nose into any of your business, but something happened. You’re not really good at keeping a secret. And then she left,” Ruby observed. “So, I’m guessing whatever passed between you two wasn’t stellar.”

Emma sighed. “I don’t really want to get into it.”

"All right, then," Ruby shrugged and turned away.

“Wait,” Emma said, changing her mind and tearing her eyes away from the computer screen. “Something did happen in Vegas. But it’s not like that. It wasn’t bad.”

"Oh?"

“That last night in Vegas, we... _well_ …“ Emma smiled and bit her lip.

Ruby caught on. A knowing grin spread across her face. “Something _did_ happen.”

Emma took a deep breath. “Yeah. We were both in this place, well, literally we were in Vegas, but we were in this place where things seemed different. Stuff back at home felt so far away. Problems. Reservations. It just felt right.”

“You’re not exactly the only one who’s ever had that happen. What happens in Vegas and all that,” Ruby said.

“Yeah, I know. And for that brief time when we were together after the party Saturday night, I forgot - or rather, I let myself forget - that a while back, after we first kissed, we’d had this talk. She’d told me she didn’t want anything romantic. With me, with anyone. And I thought that was fine. I mean, I was glad she was clear with me.”

“Sure,” Ruby said.

“I mean, I thought I’d accepted it. We kept working together, I helped you plan this thing for her sister. But when we were there together it was just like… it all fell in place. We left the party, kissed, laughed, had a midnight burger, the whole sappy romantic comedy bit. She seemed less inhibited that night, and I forgot that I had decided to respect her wishes, to be honest. Well, not that I forgot, it’s just, she sent me mixed signals. And those mixed signals ultimately led us back to my place.”

“And then the next morning, your magical weekend was over,” Ruby concluded.

“Basically. The next morning we had breakfast at my place - it felt so natural and comfortable and _right_ that morning - but then I was reminded of who she really was. When she saw an email and found out she had to leave for Paris right away on business.”

“So it’s just a business trip, then. She’ll be back. Unless something else happened?”

“No, nothing happened. Actually, she asked me if I wanted to go with her. I had to admit I don’t even have a passport.”

“She wanted you to go with her to Paris? That’s quick. And extravagant,” Ruby said.

“Yeah, but it must’ve just been a passing thought. Ever since she left on Sunday night, she’s backed off. Way off. I’ve only had a few brief messages from her.”

“She’s probably busy.”

Emma nodded. “Probably. It’s just weird. She’s so hot and cold. On and off.”

“She’s been that way from the beginning,” Ruby reminded her. “How could you forget her terrible temper about the most mundane things like Christmas decorations or coupons being handed out on the street?”

“She’s exhausting,” Emma agreed, closing the lid of her laptop. “What is this, high school? Am I going to be sitting at home by the phone, waiting for her to ask me to the prom, only to hear from my best friend that she’s going with someone else?”

“Um, no, because actually you’re almost 30, Emma, and above all of this,” Ruby said. “You can do one of two things. Wait around for her to come around, or just go out and live your life.”

“I don’t know what that would be,” Emma confessed. “The last few months have been all about either keeping this place up and running or the exercise in patience that is Regina.”

“You can hang out with me,” Ruby offered.

“What are you up to tonight?”

“Seeing a friend,” Ruby replied vaguely, placing a hand on her hip and leaning against the wall, smiling smugly.

“A friend?“

Ruby slightly flushed. “Okay, don’t laugh. But it’s actually one of Zelena’s friends. And we’re kind of more than just friends.”

“What? Since when? Who is this?” Emma asked, forgetting all about Regina for a second.

“Dorothy,” Ruby said. “The architect. And it's new - just since the weekend.”

“Wow,” Emma said.

“Hey, you’re not the only one who had stuff happen in Vegas, but in my case it didn’t stay in Vegas,” Ruby replied, grinning. “And you’re welcome to join us tonight. I think a few of us are meeting up at The Rabbit Hole.”

“Okay,” Emma said, standing up from her desk. “I’m in. Let’s close up and get out of here.”

+

9am Friday, Central European Time  
 _Emma, where are you? I didn’t see a text last night. Missed your messages. Regina_

6pm Friday, Central European time  
 _What are you up to? Haven’t heard from you in a while. R._

7pm Friday, Pacific time  
 _Went out w/Ruby and some friends last night then work. Hope your meetings were great. What time are you getting back home?_

7am Sunday, Central European time  
 _I need to talk to you about that._

+

“Regina’s staying another two weeks?” Ruby asked, incredulous.

“She arranged more meetings than expected while she was over there, and needs to stay a while longer,” Emma said.

They were between shifts. Lily was on her way out, Ruby on her way in, and they were standing behind the counter, a conversation about schedules for the weekend having devolved into gossip.

“She didn’t ask you to meet her there again, did she?” Ruby asked.

“Not this time.”

“She wanted Emma to go to Europe with her?” Lily asked, raising her eyebrows.

“It’s kind of romantic, you have to admit. Wanting to whisk you off to Paris,” Ruby added.

“Yeah, but is this chick serious about you, or does she just see you as some sort of accessory?” Lily asked, scowling. “Because right now, she sounds indecisive about everything except for her occasional desire for a quick f-”

“Hey, customers,” Emma cut her off loudly, looking around nervously. 

There weren’t many customers at the moment, though. It was a low time of day.

“Wow, well, aren’t we the cynical one,” Ruby teased Lily.

“You used to be way more cynical - and fun - before your whole Dorothy thing,” Lily grumbled.

“She has a point. Love has softened me,” Ruby admitted.

“I feel your pain,” Emma said, taking a sip of coffee.

“Look at it this way, Emma,” Lily said, resting her elbows on the counter. “She isn’t prioritizing you at all. She sounds like a cold, heartless b-”

“Customers!” Emma warned in a low voice.

“ _-witch_ who doesn’t have any concern for how anyone feels except for herself. She even left her son, right? The kid doesn’t have his mom around for three weeks. Forget about her and go live your life. She’s not worth it,” Lily said, shaking her head in disgust.

Emma could only nod, thinking maybe Lily had a point.

+

_Meanwhile, in Paris..._

Emma started unbuttoning Regina’s blouse before their hotel room door had even fully clicked shut, and the two found themselves in a tangled mess on the bed. 

Some time later, Regina observed Emma waking up from a nap inside the room. Regina was perched a wrought iron chair outside on the small terrace, wearing a long, button-down white shirtdress. Regina was relaxed, her feet were bare, propped up on the seat of the other little bistro chair. She had a glass of red wine next to her, an assortment of foods - bread, cheese, grapes, strawberries, slices of meats - laid out on a platter, a laptop in front of her.

She was also smoking, inhaling softly, exhaling the smoke up towards the clear violet-blue evening sky.

Emma sat up, grabbed the t-shirt from earlier that had been tossed haphazardly onto a chair next to the bed. She gathered her jeans, and put those on, and moved out on the terrace to join Regina.

“I didn’t know you smoked,” Emma said, her voice still full of sleep. She popped a strawberry into her mouth.

Regina looked up at her, smiled dreamily, and snuffed out the cigarette in a small glass ashtray, setting it aside. “I do on occasion. More people smoke here than back home, and it makes me miss it. It’s an old, bad habit from my college days.”

She paused and noted Emma’s look of concern. 

“If it bothers you, I can stop,” she offered.

“I don’t mind, I guess.”

Regina moved her feet, and Emma sat on the other chair next to her.

“I can arrange a tour for you,” Regina said. “I have meetings all day tomorrow, but I know someone who does a wonderful city tour.”

“I think I might just wander,” Emma said. “I should work on some art while I’m here.”

“Good place for that,” Regina noted.

“Are you still working?” Emma asked, scowling at the laptop in front of her.

Regina shook her head. “It’s an email my sister sent. i need to let her know who I’m bringing to the wedding. 

“Oh,” Emma said. “Anyone in mind?”

Regina looked at her and smiled. “Well?”

Emma gave her a half-smile. “Am I really who your family wants to see you bring as your date?”

“I don’t care what they think. And besides, they’ll be too busy thinking about themselves to care about me.”

“There are a couple of reasons for them to care when they see me with you,” Emma said, reaching for a piece of bread.

“My family knows I’ve seen women in the past,” Regina said.

“So that’s not an issue?”  

“No. They’re used to seeing me with a lot of different people. They don’t take it very seriously.”

Emma stopped chewing. 

“I take you seriously,” Regina quickly assured her.

Emma swallowed.

“Do you?”

Regina nodded.

“I don’t believe you,” Emma said, her face darkening. “You told me once you didn’t want anything. I don’t think you want me here. And you know what? I don’t want to be here, either.”

Emma stood up and left the room, the door clicking behind her on the way out.

And Regina stayed on the terrace. She leaned over to look at the street several floors below her, and a few moments later, Emma left the hotel, walked down the street and disappeared.

+

Regina woke up with a start. 

She rolled over in bed, her hand reaching out, trying to find a pillow, something to grab onto to ground herself.

As she slowly woke up, she gazed out on the terrace. It must be early morning, and in the grey light it was empty, except for the wrought iron table and chairs that had been in her dream. They were bare. No wine, no food, no cigarettes (though it was true that she had been smoking since she’d arrived back in Paris. Bad habit. After that dream, she vowed not to do it in front of Emma. Not that she ever smoked back home, anyways, and she’d certainly never do so around Henry.)

Emma was thousands upon thousands of miles and an ocean away. She wasn’t sure what she felt: relief that that conversation had not happened in real life, or disappointment that the woman had not, in fact, been with her, even if for only a few minutes.

She sat up, remembering something about how she’d invited Emma to Paris. She’d blurted it out that morning, the morning after, while snuggled on Emma’s soft couch in Las Vegas, searching for airline tickets. She’d been on a strange, giddy high, the kind she hadn’t felt in ages. For a little while that morning, anything had felt possible. She’d felt light and free. But then Emma had told her, in a strained voice, that she didn’t have a passport, and Regina realized how silly it had been for her to suggest the woman do something so frivolous. What would Emma even have done in Paris, anyways? Sit around at the hotel all day? Be a pretty accessory for Regina to tote around to her business dinners and cocktail parties? Emma was a busy human being, with a job and a life.

Emma had her own life. And Regina had to stop interfering in it, being a mental drain on the woman, taking up her time.

This is exactly why she didn’t do relationships, or love, or anything of the sort. She was, quite simply, bad at it.

Part of her craved the days when it had been so simple to be with others. Flirting, games. Perhaps a conversation or two about their pasts, but not really ever going into it. Followed by the pure, simple bliss of sex. And then she would usually never see that person again. Or not see them many more times, at least. 

She wished she didn’t like spending time with Emma so much. She could have done that with her and she could have been over it by now.

But everything felt a little different with Emma.

Like the coffee. Her willingness to speak her mind, and even stand up to people - like Regina - when it was necessary. Like the fact that she truly was a good person, a good friend. She was fun. She was independent, but warm with others.

Regina hated that it was different with Emma. Because now she couldn't stop thinking about her.

She missed feeling the way she had that one morning in Vegas; comfortable on Emma’s couch, the sun streaming through the window, Emma making her coffee while she had scrolled through her emails. She wished she were doing that now, instead of being in a small European hotel room, so far from Emma’s soft touch and warm, generally positive, demeanor.

She picked up her phone from the dock on the end table and looked at it. If she sent a text now, it would be the late evening in California. Emma might still be up.

She typed a few things:

_Hope you’re well._

She erased it.

_How’s the coffee? Have a cup ready for me when I return?_

Regina cringed at each of her attempts at messages and promptly erased them both. The first sounded like the start of a business email. The other seemed too cutesy and desperate. She was terrible at communicating what she really felt.

_Hi, I have conflicting feelings about you. i don’t want to bother you, or owe you anything, or get involved in anything serious for a very long time. I want to keep you at arm’s length. But let’s sleep together and the morning after have breakfast and be next to each other because that was the best thing I’ve experienced in a long time,_

She definitely didn’t send that one.

How do I flirt over text? She wondered. She’d come of age just before texting had become an essential thing in a relationship, and didn’t think that her mid-thirties was the most promising time to try out awkwardly flirting via text for the first time. She’d hate to subject Emma to that.

Instead, she did nothing, and just put her phone back on the end table.

She had to back away. She once told Emma she didn’t want anything, and she’d meant it. She had already done enough damage by not standing by her word in Vegas.  
 It was time to make a clean break, and not do any of this to Emma.

She respected Emma too much to subject her to any more of this.

+

_2 weeks later_

Henry came into Emma’s shop again after school one day. When she saw him, she wondered if she could once again get away with fishing for more information, or if it was going to make the kid suspicious.

“Long time no see,” Emma said. “Haven’t seen you since that grilled cheese a few weeks ago.”

“Yeah, sorry about that. I’m waiting for my mom to get out of work today,” Henry said.

“What do you mean? She’s back?” Emma asked, surprised. The last text she’d gotten from Regina had been a few nights ago - over the weekend. It had been brief, a cursory hello, hope she was doing well kind of thing. She hadn’t mentioned anything about a return date.

“Yup, two days ago,” Henry said.

“You must be glad to have her back. No more train rides,” Emma said, struggling to recover from the news. 

Ruby brought Henry a hot chocolate, and as Henry turned his focus back to a video game, Emma told him she would find him something to snack on.

That settled that, Emma thought stubbornly. Back to square one with Regina. Very little communication, cordial at best when they did communicate. She didn’t even let her know she was coming home.

The old Regina again, Emma thought bitterly. I guess what happens in Vegas really does stay in Vegas.

Regina was exhausting. She really should follow Lily’s advice.

+

As Emma was struggling to not think about what to do about Regina that evening at the small loft apartment she rented - flipping through television channels, picking up a book and then promptly putting it back down again, fixing a little snack in her kitchen - she heard a text come in on her phone.

Assuming it wasn’t from Regina but feeling a little nervous nonetheless, she was surprised to see it was from the woman she was trying to forget.

I’m back and I have a business proposition for you, Miss Swan. Would you be free to meet me at my office tomorrow?

+

Emma went, partially out of curiosity at this “business proposition” and partly because she wanted to clear the air, and assure Regina that what happened in Vegas could, well, stay there. And that Regina could at least drop by and have her morning coffee at Swan Song again. They would both act like adults. 

They met in the middle of the afternoon, around 2. Regina had chosen the time as a courtesy to Emma - she knew it was a slow time at the cafe, after lunch but before mid-afternoon coffee breaks. Of course, it was a peak time at FORBIDDEN: downstairs it was somewhat busy with shoppers who seemed to be from out of town, but Belle was doing a good job as always helping them find what they wanted. Emma waved hello to Belle and slipped upstairs. There were many people working - Sydney was up there today, as we'll as a number of people Emma didn’t recognize. 

She knocked on Regina’s office door, which was closed.

‘Come in” Regina said, and Emma entered.

“Go ahead and shut the door,” Regina instructed.

“Welcome back,” Emma said in a strained voice.

“Thank you,” Regina said, standing up from her desk and taking off a pair of glasses. Emma hadn’t seen Regina in glasses before…. she liked the look. A little nerdy, but in that irresistible sexy-smart way. 

“You can come in for coffee, you know,” Emma said.

“What?”

“Coffee, at Swan Song. You haven’t stopped in since you got back from Paris. You’re welcome any time, like always.”

“Oh, thank you,” Regina said distractedly. “We did fix our coffee machine here finally, but yours is better. Now, please, sit down.”

She sat, motioning toward the chair in front of her desk.

“What is this about?“ Emma asked, not sure what topic was going to come up next. 

“I’m working on a marketing campaign. We’re already well underway, and I was inspired while I was in Paris. There is so much competition, it’s hard to get products noticed in such an incredibly saturated market, even if what you are selling is as good as my products."

The woman did not lack for confidence when it came to business.

“I had an idea, last night, when looking at one of my inspiration boards," Regina continued. "I’ve started to be drawn to works of art that… well, that were similar to the ones you painted. That I saw at your house in Las Vegas.”

“Really?” Emma asked.

Regina put on her glasses again. Damn. She needed to stop wearing those glasses if Emma was going to be cool with just being friends or business acquaintances or whatever it was she was with this woman.

“I am wondering if you would consider selling some of your works of art to me. Either the ones you had hanging at your home, or new ones, painted in a similar style. And by selling them, would you also sell me the rights to use them in my marketing campaign?”

“Wow, sure. I never thought I could sell a painting, much less actually have it be used in a real… thing," Emma said, struggling to find words.

“Well, now is your chance for your work to be in a ‘thing,’” Regina said crisply.

Emma nodded. “So do you want me to make one special for you, like a commission, or would you prefer to buy one of the ones you saw? That I already did?” 

Regina thought for a moment. “If you’d be willing to take on a commission, perhaps that would be best. I have some colors in mind to use, to compliment the pieces that will be featured in the ad. If you don't mind.”

Emma nodded. “That can be arranged.”

“Now, to talk pricing,” Regina started, looking down at a few notes on her desk. 

“I’ll be honest, I don’t know what my work is worth,” Emma said.

“And to be honest, I don’t have the highest budget. I may have a modestly successful business on my hands, but margins are thin right now, and my marketing budget isn’t amazing.”

“That’s okay,” Emma said. “I just like the idea of my artwork being out there.”

“You are a terrible negotiator,” Regina said with a slight tone of amusement. “I can give you five hundred apiece, including the rights to use them. Three or four pieces. It’s not much, I know, but I truly don’t have a lot of wiggle room as far as marketing goes. I still have to hire photographers, graphic designers, writers, the works.”

“Sold,” Emma said.

Regina smiled smugly. “Like I said, terrible negotiator.”

“…with one caveat,” Emma added quickly.

“What?” Regina asked.

Emma lowered her voice. “Have dinner with me.”

Regina sucked in a cheek and shifted impatiently. “I’m busy the next couple of weeks."

Emma let out a low hiss of frustration. 

“What is going on, Regina?” she asked quietly. “Last time we parted, we’d just slept together and you were telling me I should get a passport so I can travel with you, and now we’re just back to square one?”

Regina met her eyes briefly and then looked down in her lap.

“I told you I was bad at this kind of thing,” she said.

“You did.” Emma conceded. “But Regina, we did-”

“A thing adults sometimes do when they’re swept up in a moment,” Regina interjected. 

“Right,” Emma said, leaning back, partially hurt, partially just mad. Her jaw clenching, she averted her gaze, focusing instead on the side of the room where several silky, floral-print chemises and lacy underwear daintily hung from silk hangers. 

“I apologize, Ms. Swan, for what I did. It wasn’t fair to you,” Regina said this time, clearly trying to sound firm, but Emma sensed a slight quiver in her voice. “It was just a... whim.”

Emma looked at her, studied her for a moment.

“It wasn’t.” Emma said finally.

“What?” Regina asked, her eyes flashing.

“It wasn’t,” repeated Emma. “It was something more. I know when you’re lying. You’re lying now.”

She really was lying. The way the veins in her forehead became more pronounced, the way she pursed her lips in a way that made the skin around them tighten, her expression souring…

Regina scowled briefly at that, then her face softened.

“You’re right,” Regina said, her voice softer now, letting out a deep breath she’d been holding. “It was more than nothing.”

“What do you want, Regina?” Emma asked. “I’ll respect your decision, either way. But all you’ve been giving me so far are mixed messages.”

Regina looked into her eyes, and Emma’s breath stopped, her world seemed to stand still for a second.

Regina had an unmistakably longing, almost sad, look.

“I’m a coffee shop owner. I live in tiny loft. I’m a pretty modest person. But I also know what I want. And it’s likely I’ll wait around for a little while, but maybe not forever, you know?” Emma said gently.

Emma continued, “Whatever you do - I get it. You’re building a fashion empire, you strut around and look like every day is your own personal photo shoot, and somehow manage to raise a really great kid. You’re busy.”

“I am,” Regina said quietly.

You’re also incredibly frustrating, you know,” Emma said a moment later. “Because you’re wearing these glorious glasses and are sitting in this office surrounded by delicate, lacy underthings. And I think you know what I wish I could have this very second.”

Emma thought she heard Regina suck in a little breath.

“You’re also stubborn.” Emma grinned.

Regina rolled her eyes.

Emma laughed a bit at that.

“Regina, if you can ever admit out loud what you want, either way, you’ll know where to find me,” Emma said. “That is, if it’s not like five decades from now and Swan Song no longer exists, and I’m not 80 years old and haven’t moved on already with, oh, I dunno, give or take a dozen other people. Probably take. Who am I kidding.”

Emma tried to keep the tone light, but in reality, she was starting to feel almost foolish having this conversation. Regina’s silence made her feel like she was talking too much. Oh, how she wished things had gone differently. How she wished they were back in that easy, comfortable place they’d been at in Vegas, before Regina went away. Maybe she could have reassured Regina somehow, made her less skittish, before they'd re-entered the real world.

She wanted to go back to work now. Put some distance between herself and the frustrating brunette.

Regina remained silent, the only noise the tap-tap-tap of her pen against a pad of paper, taking a sip of water out of a crystal glass that had been resting on a ceramic coaster. 

At last, Emma remembered why she was there that afternoon. Her voice turned businesslike. “So, when do you need the paintings by?”

Regina cleared her throat. “Two weeks, if you can. But if you need more time, just let me know.”

Emma nodded. “Done.”

Regina stood up. “I’ll walk you out.” 

+

Emma went downstairs, Regina trailing behind. Emma was starting to feel disappointed in herself, that she’d ever let the woman get her swept up in the moment, position herself for hurt. Forget Regina and her "I can’t do love/intimacy/relationship thing," Emma had been screwed over by enough people in her life that she should have known better than to trust anyone, especially someone as seemingly independent and dangerous as Ms. "I don't do relationships" Mills.

Who owned a business called FORBIDDEN, of all things. Why hadn’t she taken that as a warning sign?

 Emma crossed the floor of the store, waving a quick hello to Belle, when she heard a familiar trill.

“Emma! Oh, darling, how good to see you again!”

It was Zelena. Otherwise known as the last person, after Regina, Emma had any interest in seeing at the moment.

“You and Ruby planned one of the best weekends of my life,” she said, stopping Emma and giving her an air kiss. 

Emma nearly gagged at the cloud of perfume that seemed to surround her, then smiled. “Glad to hear it. It was mostly Ruby’s doing, I was just there to lend a helping hand.”

“And so I hear you did,” Zelena said mischievously, glancing over at Regina.

Regina’s icy stare faltered at that. For a split second, Emma glanced over at Regina nervously.

“I was just saying goodbye to Emma,” Regina said, smiling cooly, ignoring the quip, and Emma was appreciative that the woman was at least trying to allow her to escape.

“So soon?” Zelena asked, disappointment crossing her face. “You know, the three of us should really get together sometime. And Ruby, too. We need to catch up. Emma, maybe you can tell me what other great Vegas activities I’ve been missing out on all of these years, things I should do the next time I go back."

“We’ll keep that in mind. We really shouldn't keep Ms. Swan from work,” Regina urged.

“Oh, but one thing before you go. I need your address, Emma, to send you an invitation to my wedding.”

“Oh… it’s okay,” Emma said, backing off, especially when she noticed the look on Regina’s face out of the corner of her eye.

“I wouldn’t dream of having my wedding without my fabulous party planners there,” she said. “Please do come!”

“I don’t know,” Emma said carefully. “I suppose I can text you my address.”

“You have to. And let me know if you will be bringing a plus one.”

“Sure,” Emma said. “Is Ruby going?”

“Oh, of course she is. I would have sent her her own invitation, but it seems she’s already acquainted with my dear friend Dorothy, and will be going with her. So that means I need to send you an invitation; unless, of course, you met anyone who will be attending in Vegas and care to accompany them,” she said, smiling pointedly at Regina.

Okay, based on that look, she’d definitely heard something.

Regina crossed her arms angrily, pouting. “We really don’t need to bother Emma with your wedding,” Regina said.

Emma knew Regina was just trying to get her out of having to go to the insane extravaganza that was sure to be Zelena’s wedding, but a part of her was crestfallen that Regina was so insistent on not including her.

“Oh, stop it, sis,” chided Zelena. “I want you to be there, Emma. Please do come.”

“Sure,” Emma said quickly, to placate Zelena and to get out of the awkward situation as quickly as possible. “Thanks. I’ll be there.”

“Remember to send me your address and I’ll get an invitation out to you straight away," Zelena said as Emma edged toward the door. "I’m so pleased Regina will have someone to socialize with at my wedding other than dreadful Cousin Claude!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! First of all, many thanks once again for your kind comments, kudos and simply for being there and reading this. I really started it as a fun little project, and it's definitely grown into...well, a project. I wrote and re-wrote this chapter at least twice to get the flow right. The good news, however, is that I have a couple of chapters beyond this either partially or almost fully written, so I have a very good picture of where this is all going, which is exciting. With that said, I know this may not be everyone's favorite chapter, but I promise Regina will get a little more decisive in the not-so distant future. With Regina, it's two steps forward, one step back... but we're progressing!


	10. Further

Regina was seething.

She knew exactly what her sister was doing. Trying to meddle in her affairs, again. She would never understand why her sister and mother lived for these petty games. They didn’t understand her at all. Or her life. Or how she had far more important things to think about and therefore had very little tolerance for this kind of interference into her personal life.

Regina returned upstairs after Emma left, leaving Zelena in the shop to look around and be her usual nuisance of a self... just out of her sight. Belle could deal with her. Regina sat down at her desk and was greeted with an extraordinarily long list of emails that had arrived in her inbox over the last hour or so. 

Her eyes glazed over as she began scrolling through the emails. She didn’t need any of this right now. She was completely irritated, completely miserable, and she hated that her emotions were getting in the way of her attention to work.

After a few minutes, she decided that she needed a little assistance focusing, so she went in search of coffee. When she reached the newly-fixed coffee machine outside of her office, she found one of her assistant designers was refilling its water reservoir. With one glance at her, the assistant immediately jetted away.

Moments later, Regina was even more irritated to discover that they were completely out of coffee.

“Sidney!” she called.

“Yes?” the man ran out of his office immediately.

“Make sure that more coffee capsules are ordered immediately. We’re out.”

He nodded and muttered something about doing so right away.

She stormed downstairs, her heels tapping angrily on the floor as she crossed the boutique and went outside.

Next door, she pushed open the door of Swan Song, the bell chiming a little too merrily for her liking. 

Ruby gave her a warm smile from behind the bar.

“You look like you could use some caffeine,” she said, clearly unfazed by Regina’s sour face.

“I could,” Regina said, deciding to forego the quips, backing off at the woman’s attention, and depositing herself on a barstool while Ruby set to work making her usual order.

“Hey,” Emma said, carrying some empty mugs from a table. “When I said you were invited here for coffee any time, I didn’t realize you were this desperate. Would’ve reminded you to come by sooner.”

“We’re out of coffee,” Regina said.

“Gotcha,” Emma said. “Ruby took your order?”

Regina nodded. “But I also came to tell you something. I want to apologize for my sister’s behavior. She loves to overstep boundaries and generally acts inappropriate at the most inopportune times. It’s her thing.”

“Actually, Regina, I think she was just being nice by inviting me,” Emma said.

“You don’t have to go to her wedding. It will be a ridiculously tacky, over-blown affair. Trust me, you don’t want to be there,” Regina said.

“Thanks for telling me how I feel about going,” Emma said lightly.

Regina scowled as Ruby handed her coffee. Ruby wasn’t quite as chipper as she’d been a few minutes ago, having overheard the harsh tone Regina used with Emma. She drifted away to serve other customers, but not before giving Regina a brief warning of a glare.

Regina took a sip of the coffee. Perfect, as always. Who needed a coffee machine when she worked next door to this place?

“I’m sorry,” Regina said a few minutes later, the coffee revitalizing her as she watched Emma organize things behind the counter. “I don’t mean to be so... indecisive with you. I didn't know what to say to you when I was gone, and I don't want to lead you on when my work life is a poor match for a love life."

“Look, Regina,” Emma said, moving closer to Regina and sounding impatient. “First of all, I’m a big kid. I have been around the block. Stop pretending you’re somehow protecting me by not communicating with me."

“Fine, I won't then." Regina scowled. 

Emma gathered up some empty glasses from behind the counter. Regina watched her as she worked.

"I don’t understand, Emma! Why are you as patient with me as you have been? Why do you still even bother with me?” Regina asked.

Emma sighed and put down the glass she was holding.

“Look, I might be crazy for still tolerating you after all of the times you’ve gone back and forth with me. There are times when I think I should just shrug this off and walk away. But... I also get where you’re coming from. I get not wanting to let people down, and being busy with stuff and having family obligations, not wanting to stretch yourself too thin, all of that,” Emma said. "I really do believe that's what you're struggling with most. And I'm patient because I understand where you're coming from."

Regina let out a breath. Most people she'd known would have just drifted away by now.

“What I don’t know is why you keep saying you’re bad at relationships and bad at being with people, but I’m sure you have your reasons," Emma continued slowly, her voice less impatient than before. "And if you’d ever stopped to ask me how I felt about relationships, I would’ve told you not to worry about it, because we’ll figure it out, and that our lives aren’t a Facebook status and we don’t have to define what we're doing in any way. We could just be ourselves."

Regina suddenly felt ridiculous. She'd been so focused on herself and her own conflicted feelings, that she'd been neglecting how Emma must feel through all of this. Emma was right - she wasn't protecting her from anything with this behavior.

“Do you really want to go to my sister’s wedding?” Regina asked curiously.

“To be honest, I kind of do. I like spending time with you, Regina. I don’t think that’s any secret. And yeah, I’m even a little fascinated by your family, and your zany sister. I want to go.”

“Well, the food will be very good,” she said, at a loss for what else to say to Emma.

“I’ll for sure RSVP in that case,” Emma said. “I’ve got to get back to work.”

Regina stood up. “I do as well. I placed an order for the coffee capsule refills for our machine, although it's only for my employees. I’ll be back here. Your coffee is far superior.”

“And if you ever wanna make good on that dinner that was a part of our deal, you know where to find me,” Emma said, grinning. “But if you don’t, I’ll still do the paintings anyways.”

Regina laughed lightly. “I appreciate it.”

+

Regina drove about an hour or so outside of town, heading deep into wine country, early on the morning of Zelena’s wedding day. Henry was half-asleep, his head pressed against the passenger window, headphones over his ears and his eyes shut.

With every twist and turn in the drive, she felt herself growing more and more nervous. It would be a whole weekend with her family. They were all wild cards. Her father was fine, but he was quiet and often lost in his own world. He would drift off to chat and drink and smoke cigars with his business partners, and her mother would complain that he wasn't fulfilling all of his social obligations to the rest of their "friends." 

Speaking of her mother, Cora, she might be perfectly tolerable, and Zelena may be fine as well, but then when everyone least expects it, her sister could very well say something ridiculous and cringe worthy or not even go through with the wedding at all and what a headache THAT would be to deal with all of the family members and guests who had arrived for the occasion, or her mother could take out all of her stress on Regina, like she sometimes did, channeling her nerves into being a bitter, sharp-tongued woman. Cora made a sport of directing her pettiness at Regina, commenting on how Regina did her hair, or makeup, or what she wore, and how it all could have been better. Or worse, she might start saying those sorts of things to someone else - a guest, a cousin, another family member - causing a small altercation that Regina would then have to sort out, all while shielding her sister from the drama not because her sister needed protecting but because, despite all of the weddings her damn sister has had, Regina hated to think of their mother dampening Zelena’s special day.

When Regina finally arrived at the spa where she and Henry were staying, a few miles from her parents’ country home and the wedding venue, Henry kept his headphones on as he unloaded his suitcase and trailed after her to their suite after checking in. They went downstairs some time later to have lunch in the dining room, and while they were there, an old friend of her father’s walked in with his daughter.

Regina greeted them when the man and his daughter was shown to the table next to hers.

“Why, Regina! So nice to see you,” he said, greeting her before he sat down. “And is this the young Henry? Not so young anymore, are we?”  
 Hank shook Henry’s hand.

“This is my daughter, Violet,” he said, introducing a pretty brown-haired girl, who smiled and politely greeted them both.

Regina thought she noticed a faint flush on his face as Henry said hello to Violet.

As they ate, Regina had a polite conversation with the man, named Hank, discussing travel, how his business was going, a few other old family friends. Henry was quiet, but Violet seemed friendly and slowly wedged Henry out of his shell, and soon the two of them were deep into their own conversation about music.

“I suppose we’ll see you at my sister’s wedding tomorrow?” Regina asked as they all were finishing their lunches.

“We'll be there. I’ve been to all of her other ones, it would have been a shame to end my streak."

“Henry, there are some hiking trails around here, I was going to take a walk after lunch. Do you want to come with me?” Violet asked sweetly.

Henry looked over at Regina. “Can I?” he asked.

Regina hesitated for a second, but then nodded. “Just be back by five. We have a rehearsal dinner to attend tonight.”

+

“It’s raining on my wedding day,” a tearful Zelena said the next morning, as soon as Regina walked into her bedroom. She was pouting next to the window. 

Zelena was in a long, white silk robe, the extravagant wedding dress she was about to put on hanging next to a mirror to the side of the room. Her hair and makeup had been done and she looked as gorgeous as ever.

Regina hung up her blue Maid of Honor dress and began laying out her makeup bag.

“Everything is indoors. We’ll manage,” Regina said, trying to keep her tone even and patient.

“It’s never rained on my wedding day before,” Zelena pouted.

“Well, maybe it's a sign of good luck for this wedding,” Regina offered, coaxing her away from the window and calling over the hair and makeup artist that Zelena had hired for the day.

The wedding was to take place that evening at their family home in the country. Like the spa location, their home was perched high on a green hill, surrounded by a lush, rolling landscape covered in endless vineyards. It was a picture-perfect setting, as all of Zelena’s weddings had been, and truly everything about was enchanted: from the Mills' family massive house that had been featured in Architectural Digest where the ceremony was to take place, which was impeccably decorated, staged and lit cheerfully to host the 100 or so guests who were to attend; the wine and champagne that had been sourced from one of the most exclusive small producers in the region; the fusion food, cooked by a famous chef flown in from Peru just for the event; the guest list, containing a veritable who's-who of Silicon Valley and the friends of Walsh, who, as it turned out, was more than just a pretty face and quite successful in his own right: he was an engineer and investor in a successful electric car company.

Regina spent the day focused on keeping Zelena happy, making sure Henry didn’t run off and was at all of the wedding-related events (including the ceremony, photos and reception) on time, and mitigating the damage caused by her mother, who, as predicted, made it a personal mission to critique every last detail of the day, causing everyone from the photographer to the makeup artist to the wait staff serving champagne and tapas to turn red in shame or fear, scurrying to keep up with her last minute whims and demands.

And so, at the reception that night, when the dinner had finally wound down and the music began to grow louder, as guests started to stand up and mingle and dance, Regina reached for her first glass of wine of the evening (she hadn't had a chance to enjoy one earlier, though she’d certainly tried), when she took her first sip, a familiar blonde silhouette caught her eye.

Emma.

She’d tried to forget that her sister had invited Emma this weekend. Things had been all right with Emma in the past 10 days or so since Zelena had invited her to the wedding - most of Regina's days had started with a fresh cup of coffee at Swan Song, and if Emma wasn't busy, they talked about normal, comfortable things, friendly things - but she’d been busy recently, and the thought of spending time outside of her normal workday routine with Emma had simply been pushed to the back of her mind until now.

She looked down at the plate of barely-touched food in front of her. 

She looked back at Emma, and gave her a little wave.

Emma was already headed over.

Regina sat up straighter and stabbed a potato with her fork. 

“Hey,” Emma said, sitting down in the empty seat next to hers, which had been assigned to none other than her cousin Claude. A diabolical joke on Zelena’s part, she was certain. Thankfully the tiresome man had wandered off a while ago to discuss some sort of trading card game with a relative of Walsh’s.

“Mind if I join you?” Emma asked. “I’m getting a little tired of being hit on by some guy named Killian who claims to be an “old acquaintance” of your mother’s, whatever that means.

“I wouldn’t ask,” Regina said. “About Killian, that is. Yes, you are always welcome to join me. I hope you don’t mind I’m still eating, I haven’t had a lot of chance to get food at all today.”

“No worries. Zelena keeping you on your toes?”

Regina nodded. “But soon this wedding will be done, and I should be free from Zelena’s weddings for at least a year, maybe two if I’m lucky.”

“At least you’ve got a lot of practice with weddings,” Emma offered.

Regina smiled.

They fell into an easy sort of conversation then, Regina finishing her food (she hadn’t realized until that very moment how incredibly hungry she was), while Emma chatted with her. A waiter brought them both a dessert wine, which they enjoyed with the somewhat bland-tasting white cake.

“You look very nice, by the way,” Regina said when she finally finished eating, and sat back as a waiter poured them both small cups of coffee. 

Emma looked down at her outfit, a long, flared black shirt and a matching top that was slightly cropped and showed a little peek of skin. “Thanks. Totally Ruby’s cousin’s work, though. We texted him for wedding outfit ideas and he picked this one out. Even mailed it over for free.”

“I was complimenting you, Emma. Not the outfit."

"Oh," Emma said, flushing slightly. "Thank you."

"Although now that you mention it, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a skirt,’ Regina said.

“You probably haven’t. This might be the first one I’ve worn in years,” Emma said. “By the way, you're looking pretty great yourself. And that color blue suits you. How’d you talk Zelena into letting you wear blue instead of green?”

“Years of experience - Zelena knows I hate green, and she finally gave in and let me choose the color. And the dress.”

“Well, it was a good choice,” Emma said, her eyes raking Regina’s figure.

Regina suddenly felt her cheeks grow a little warm. She took a deep breath.

“Would you like to dance, Emma?” she asked.

Emma started a little at the unexpected use of her first name. 

“Sure,” she said softly, eyes wide, and allowed Regina to guide her onto the dance floor.

+

As they danced, a few of the usual curious glances were cast their way, but not too many. Regina felt her heart beating rapidly, blood pounding in her ears. She was nervous. Not just because she was surrounded by family and friends, and that made her nervous for any number of reasons, but because she was with _Emma_ and surrounded by family and friends. It had been ages since she’d indicated any romantic interest in anyone with family around.

There were a few surprised glances - like from Aunt Constance over there, who couldn’t stop staring and then whispered, scandalized, to her table-mate - but for the most part, her family was used to the fact that she’d kept her private romances, private. Never been married. But had a child. Seemingly disinterested in relationships, the polar opposite of her sister who always threw herself into one relationship after a next. 

As they swayed to the music, Regina realized that the great scandal her family was probably thinking about was not that she never brought anyone to family events and was now dancing with someone, nor was it that she was dancing with another woman; no... most likely, the real scandal was that Emma wasn’t exactly from an important family. She did not have a recognizable face or name, she was not a familiar presence in their social circles. No one knew anything about her. She was a mystery.

Then again, Regina liked that. Emma was a breath of fresh air to her.

“You’re thinking too much,” Emma said quietly.

“What?” Regina said, snapping out of her thoughts. “I am not.”

“You are. You’re all tense,” Emma observed, using her hand, resting at the small of Regina's back, to hold her slightly closer. “C’mon, relax.”

“I’m trying,” Regina whispered.

“I don’t blame you though,” Emma whispered a few minutes later. “I sorta feel like we’re being watched.”

“That’s because we are,” Regina said. “My family likes to keep tabs on things. One of the many reasons I avoid them as much as possible.”

“What is my tab, do you think?” Emma asked, her eyes curious.

Regina smiled gently. “Hmm. Pretty. Good height, nice blonde hair, decent clothes, good bone structure, decent posture. You probably pass the test.”

“You make me sound like a debutant or something with that description.”

Regina laughed. “I am sure they are wondering right now if you ever had been one.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

“You don’t disappoint me,” Regina said, moving closer to Emma, almost resting her chin on her shoulder

They stayed that way for a few more minutes, until Regina noticed a familiar silhouette on the dance floor. She craned her neck to get a better look, and Emma felt her tense up. 

“What is it?” Emma asked, following Regina’s gaze.

There, on the dance floor, was Henry. Dancing with Violet.

“Oh, wow, so Henry’s got a girlfriend?” Emma asked, amused.

“He most certainly does not have a girlfriend,” Regina countered.

“They look pretty friendly,” Emma observed.

“They’d better not be,” Regina growled.

“Oh, come on, Regina. He’s a teenager. This kind of stuff happens.”

Regina frowned, considering that. “I don’t know. It could've waited a few more years before dealing with that.”

Emma gave her a look that asked, “are you serious?” but Emma refrained from commenting anything out loud.

“I don’t think I feel like dancing right now,” Regina said, gently backing away, and she and Emma walked back to the table.

+

“Photo time, Regina,” Cora said later, coming up to their table, casting a slightly judgmental look toward Emma, who was nursing a bottle of beer. 

“Thank you, mother,” Regina said primly, uncrossing her legs and standing up.

“Are you ok here for a bit?” Regina asked Emma.

Emma nodded. “Go.”

Emma decided she’d had enough of the loud music and dancing, so she wandered outside onto a deck, overlooking the lawn where a photographer had arranged Regina’s family under a stunning, bright canopy of fairy lights and lanterns.

“That’s great,” the photographer was saying, an assistant running around and adjusting Zelena’s dress, positioning everyone for the endless photos they were taking.

A few other guests were outside like Emma, milling about and watching the scene, sitting on the benches in the cool night air, drinking, chatting quietly, laughing. Emma relaxed, leaning up against the balcony railing as she observed Regina’s family. Cora, for her reputation of being bitter and petty according to Regina, was also pretty, petite, auburn-haired, with pursed lips that looked sour, and soft eyes that watched over everyone all of the time and could turn piercing at any second.

Zelena looked nice, if not over the top, in her jewel-encrusted, long white gown, wearing a stunning emerald necklace. Walsh was handsome, but meek, wearing a tux, and there were a few other men standing around him.

“Come on, daddy!” Zelena motioned to a man who had just been shuffled over to them. He was a small man, short, white-haired. Emma watched as he was arranged next to their mother in the pose.

“Looking good!” the photographer called, snapping photos.

Emma’s eyes remained on Regina and Zelena’s father. He looked oddly familiar. She couldn't quite place him immediately, though. She was pretty sure he’d never been at any of the town hall meetings. Where was he from? Why did he look familiar?

She took another sip of her beer. She was pretty sure she’d seen him before. If only she could remember where… she almost felt like she’d seen him in back in her Vegas years?

She watched as the photographer started taking pictures, continuing to give instructions to the family where to look, telling them they looked great.

Emma took another sip of beer. It was late, and she was starting to feel sleepy. She should’ve gotten a coffee instead. Maybe she’ll have one next.

Coffee.

_Coffee._

That’s where she remembered the man from. Her first job. A stern, unfriendly man who had come to the coffee kiosk at the company she’d worked for in high school. She could even remember that he’d snapped at her once. 

And later, he’d laid off her parents.

He owned the company her parents had worked for. He was the reason they’d been screwed out of jobs after two decades of service to his business.

Emma’s heart sank. How had this never come up in conversation with Regina before? 

Regina hadn’t really talked about her family a lot. She avoided the topic, actually, and Emma never brought it up. She knew Zelena, Zelena’s friends, and the general idea that their mother wasn’t the most pleasant person to be around, that Regina’s family had enough money for multiple houses, business investments and shared a private plane, but that was it. She never really asked for more detail.

Suddenly, though, it all made sense - or didn’t make sense, actually, between the late hour and the beer and the loud music drifting from inside - and her mind began racing. Regina’s wealthy family. Her obsession with work. Clearly a trait inherited from her father. She remembered hearing how the man who owned the company would make impulsive decisions and not give much thought to who was impacted by them. She remembered her parents talking about office rumors that his wife, who sat on the board, was really the one running the show. Emma didn’t care. All she knew was that this guy, and his company, essentially, was the reason her parents had been laid off and had struggled in the years since then, and he was the reason, essentially, that she’d been turned off of the idea of having a “traditional” job in the first place. Thanks to him, she’d never wanted to be a slave to some guy in an Ivory tower, cutting a paycheck in exchange for employees’ souls, and had run off to Vegas.

She didn’t feel like watching the family take any more pictures. She went back inside.

+

“I was looking for you,” Regina said when she found Emma a half hour later, sitting on her own in a dimly-lit room that appeared to be a study. “We’re finally done with the last of the pictures.”

Emma didn’t answer.

“You okay?” Regina asked.

Emma smiled. “I’m okay. It’s just… Regina? Which company does your father own?”

“I told you, it’s a software company.”

“But why all the secrecy? He’s the president, or CEO, or whatever, of Charming Software,” Emma said.

Regina adjusted her dress and sat down. “Yes, he is. And it's not a secret."

“It’s a pretty big company. He’s a well-known guy.” Emma said.

Regina looked at her, concern on her face, wondering what this was all about. “Yes, he is. Although I didn’t realize you were so keyed in to the world of tech.”

“I recognize him because I used to serve him coffee. I worked at the coffee bar in Charming when I was in high school, in the front atrium of the headquarters building.”

“Small world,” Regina said.

“Yeah, and his company - your family’s, I guess - laid off my parents.”

“Emma,” Regina said gently.

“No, I mean,” Emma said, holding up her hand. “I know it has nothing to do with you. Really. It’s fine. It’s business. It just surprised me, that’s all. To see him here, and to realize.”

“I’m sorry my dad never came up in conversation,” Regina said. “Truly. I had no idea it would be so relevant to you to know who my father was. Do you want me to introduce you two?”

“No, it’s okay,” Emma said.

“Really? Maybe he’ll recognize you,” Regina said.

Emma shook her head. “No, really. It was a pretty long time ago, and besides, I think the few times I did serve him coffee, he got impatient with me for being too slow. No need for him to remember all of that.”

Regina smiled. “He’s a different man at home. Work is work.”

“Yeah… work is work,” Emma said, uncertain. 

“Come on,” Regina said. “There’s still music, and I enjoyed dancing with you earlier.”

“Maybe in a bit,” Emma said. "I’m going to find the restroom first - I’ll meet you near your table."

“I hope you will. I’m not a great dancer. I’m better when you’re with me,” Regina said flirtatiously.

Emma gave her a half-smile. “I’ll be back,” she said.

+

Regina returned to her table, which was empty, though the candles were still flickering in their glass holders and the extravagant floral centerpiece was still cheerful.

Regina found a waiter and got a fresh glass of wine, and then heard her sister call out her name.

“I saw you dancing with Emma earlier!” Zelena said, her eyes sparkling as she moved toward Regina. “I’m so proud of you.”

"Why?" Regina asked.

“Because you looked happy, and I feel like I never see you looking that happy. I know you make fun of me for all of my weddings, but being in love makes me happy. I don’t think you’re so different after all.”

“Hold on, I’m not in love,“ Regina corrected.

“Well, you’re in lust then, I can see it in you. You're different”

Regina put her hands on her hips. “It’s nothing. I’m too busy, and Henry-“ 

“Henry seems to have gotten his own life, in case you haven’t noticed yet,” Zelena said, looking towards the dance floor where Henry was, once again, dancing with Violet. This time the song was fast-paced, and both were laughing and looking like they were having a lot of fun.

“You can’t use him as an excuse for not having a life for much longer,” Zelena added.

Regina wanted to snap back at her, but stopped herself.

“I know,” she admitted in defeat.

Zelena’s eyes widened in glee. “See! There we go. You admitted it. Emma is quite a catch, sis. If you don’t snap her up, someone else will. Just a word from the wise.”

And with that, Zelena dashed away, back to the dance floor, where Walsh was waiting for her.

+

Emma hadn’t gone back to Regina right after they’d talked in the library. Eventually, Regina had been pulled away from her table by more relatives wishing to talk, to say hello, or to say goodbye. Her family swallowed her up, as always, to talk about work, or business opportunities, foreign travel, to ask her if she was seeing anyone, if she would eventually get married. The usual. 

At one point, Walsh rescued Regina from a particularly awkward conversation with an aunt about the horrors of children who grew up without fathers. He asked her for a friendly dance, and as they danced, Regina decided that he was far superior to the rest of the men Zelena had married. After Walsh, she danced with a man named Robin, who was the husband of one of her good friends from college, Marian. Marian and Robin had both ended up working for her father’s company after college and had become family friends. Robin and Marian had danced for a while, but Marian was heavily pregnant with their second child and had to sit down. Regina was pleased that the two of them were happy, and told them so.

Later, she was once again released from her social obligations - for a short while at least - and she made it a point to find Emma. She finally found her chatting with Dorothy and Ruby, who were standing with a large group of Zelena’s friends and clustered not too far from the open bar. All of them were holding an array of colorful drinks.

Regina lightly tapped Emma on the shoulder. “Come outside for a bit of fresh air with me?”

Emma excused herself and followed Regina outside.

They stepped out onto a massive terrace, overlooking a dark valley, lit only by the nearly-full moon. Regina had a quick flashback to the terrace at the hotel in Vegas.

“When are you going home, Emma?”

“Tomorrow morning,” Emma replied. “I found a little hotel not far from here for the night.

“I’m staying at a resort and spa nearby. Join me for breakfast. I want to show you something afterwards.”

“What's the name of the place?”

“The Mills Valley Spa and Inn,” said Regina.

“Mills, as in…?” 

Regina nodded. “One of my family’s many business ventures.”

“Wow. Do you guys, like, own the entire state?”

Regina laughed. “I don’t think that would be the best investment.”

“I'll meet you for breakfast before I head back home," Emma agreed.

Emma started to move away, but Regina reached out and took Emma’s hand, gently stopping her from walking away. “You’d agreed to one more dance, remember?” she asked, smiling coyly. “For the road?”

Emma gave her a friendly smile. She hesitated for a moment, squeezed Regina’s hand briefly then pulled away. “I’ll see you at breakfast.”

+

She’d wanted to dance with Regina.

Really.

She just didn’t know where a dance might have led that night. When it came to Regina, close contact late at night was not safe. Nothing was simple with Regina. A dance was not a dance, a kiss was not a kiss. There was always that underlying force that she felt when she was near the beautiful, maddening brunette… a force that told her to either run far, far away, or jump in and never look back.

She was playing it cautious, then, just until she knew where Regina stood. Whether she was still doing her “let’s just be friends” thing or what.

Breakfast, however, deep in wine country, early in the morning, with the bright sun shining outside... that all seemed relatively safe.

Emma was winding her yellow bug through the twisting roads, following some confusing instructions that she’d found on Google. The Inn and spa was set back in a very secluded area in the country. She had to take a small, narrow road and was second guessing about whether she was going the right way until she saw a small sign advertising the Inn, thankfully pointing in the direction she was driving. She continued, winding through woods, crossing past peaks overlooking the fertile green valleys. It was really beautiful out here.

She was also looking forward to breakfast, and not just because she'd see Regina, but because she really needed something to soak up all of the concoctions Ruby and Dorothy had thrown at her the previous night.

She drove at least three more miles down the quiet, winding road, and just when she was about to start second guessing the directions again, she saw what looked like a large house ahead - no, chateau would be a better word, because it was like a manor, complete with turrets, made of stone, with a slightly forgotten look to it. A sign indicated she had indeed arrived at the Mills Valley Inn and Spa.

As soon as Emma handed over her keys to the mandatory valet parking and walked into the lobby she knew she was in quite a different type of place than the rustic exterior suggested. The lobby looked like a grand, Victorian-era hotel.

“May I help you, madam?” a man asked.  
 Emma nodded. “I’m supposed to meet someone for brunch?”

“Of course, right through here you’ll find our dining room,” he said, walking her over.

Emma expected a typical restaurant, but after crossing through two parlors and an arched doorway, instead she found herself in what really looked like a formal dining room.

There was a big wraparound porch outside with more tables, and that is where she found Regina.

“Hi,” Emma said, and as she approached the table, Regina looked up at her then stood up to greet her.

How she looked like a million bucks first thing in the morning after a late night filled with wine and champagne, Emma will never know.

“Thanks for coming, Emma. Please, sit.” 

Emma sat down. From the terrace, they were overlooking a small valley, the hillsides covered in vineyards. A the bottom of the valley appeared to be a small, still lake. Complete with the turreted manor, the setting was a little surreal.

“A drink?” Regina offered.

“Hair of the dog?” Emma asked, eyeing the champagne glasses.

Regina smiled. “You could say that. Don’t worry, they’re not strong. These are a specialty here, actually, made with an elderflower liqueur, local champagne, and fresh citrus juice.”

“I’m more of a coffee girl with breakfast, as you probably know, but I’ll try it,” Emma said, taking the delicate champagne flute she was offered.

They both looked over the menu printed in gold lettering on thick, textured paper. There were only three choices; Emma decided to go with whatever a yeasted waffle was, and Regina ordered an omelette.

"I trust you had a good time at the wedding last night?"

Emma nodded. "No regrets."

“I wanted to ask you here this morning for two reasons. One, I wanted to show you something. But two, I want to say that, what you said a while back, really made me think. I... tend to over think things.”

Regina stopped herself and visibly cringed.

“I over-thought that I over-think,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Let me start again. You said we don’t need to make a relationship fit some label, and I confess that that is what I was trying to do. And that is partially what was terrifying me. I have a hard time knowing what to do with someone who has come into my life like you. Actually, I have never had someone quite like you come into my life."

She paused, took a sip of her drink, then continued.

“I decided that I would like to try out whatever it is that we began trying out. If you would like to, too,” Regina stated.

Emma hesitated.

"Unless, of course, you've already grown tired of it all," Regina said quickly, nervous. 

Emma smiled. “Are you sure?”

Regina nodded. “Please… bear with me, and at the risk of sounding like a cliche, I may need to take it one step at a time.”

“That goes without saying,” Emma said reassuringly.

They ate breakfast after that, the tension in the air having eased significantly. They talked like they were friends, but made eyes at each other like...more than friends.

After breakfast, Regina told the waiter to put the meals on her tab - even after Emma insisted she could pay her part - and Regina took her on a small tour of the Inn.

“My mom would love this place,” Emma commented. “She loves all things that are old fashioned, romantic like this. It’s kind of like a castle here.”

“Wait until you see where I’m taking you,” Regina said, motioning for her to follow her past a closed door, then down two flights of stairs.

“Um, you’re not going to murder me in the basement or something, are you?” Emma said, joking.

“Not likely,” Regina replied.

They emerged in a wine cellar, which was vast and filled with wines.

“Many are from the winery owned by my parents,” Regina explained.

Emma admired all of the bottles. “Is this what you were going to show me?” she asked, impressed.

Regina shook her head. “Not exactly, although it is interesting down here. No, I’m taking you to one of my father’s private art collections.”

“Seriously?” Emma asked.

Regina nodded. “I think you’ll like it.”

They approached a door, and Regina tapped out some numbers on a key pad.

Regina opened the door, and a few low lights switched on as they entered the small room. 

“Your dad just keeps art down here?”

“The temperature is just right, as is the humidity, there’s no natural light, it ends up being a fairly good place for him to store some of the pieces he has invested in,” explained Regina, stepping back and allowing Emma to move into the room. “And it’s private. Which makes it a good place for me to show them to you.”

“These are amazing,” Emma said, gazing around the room. 

She didn’t really know much about artists. She'd never studied art formally, but she appreciated seeing the work, which was similar in style to hers: semi-abstract, playing with color, light. Emma stopped in front of a painting that looked almost like a cityscape, and then another with several figures dancing.

“Most of these were collected by my father and his associates during their travels over the past few decades,” Regina explained. “Here, look at this one,” she said, motioning Emma over to a small painting in the corner.

“Is that…?” Emma asked for a moment. “That’s not a Pollock, is it?”

Regina nodded. “It is.”

“Whoa,” Emma said. 

“He’s never been my favorite,” Regina said. “Here, I like this one-“

She pointed out a colorful painting, full of movement. “This is my favorite. It was purchased from an artist on the street corner in South America. He was completely broke at the time we bought this piece, but he was quite well known back in his heyday. I keep asking my father if I can have this painting, but he keeps forgetting to have it wrapped up and sent to me. Whether it’s genuine forgetfulness or if he’s still too attached to it, I’m not sure.”

When Emma had enough of the paintings, they left the little room, the heavy door clicking shut behind them.

“Your life is filled with magical little secrets, Regina. Rooms full of paintings, Inns and spas owned by your family overlooking wine country… it’s all so, I don’t know. If it were me I’d be tempted to kick back and relax and enjoy the view. And yet you still work to build a whole empire of your own.”

Regina laughed. “I’m not exactly as successful as my father. No empire yet.”

“Yeah, but you must have inherited something from him. You’re driven."

“It's my mother, really, who motivates him daily. I think he would kick back and enjoy a glass of wine if it weren’t for her giving him new ideas, planting new ambitions in his mind.”

“Well, then you’re like your mother, then.”

Regina looked at her, slightly nervously. “I’m afraid I’m too much like her. I don’t want to be, though. She always put appearances and driving my father’s ambition and success ahead of, you know, just paying a bit of attention to me, or to Zelena, when we were children. She was always scheming and plotting every move, from business decisions to arranging our acquaintances and friends, even driving what Zelena and I were supposed to grow up and do as careers. My dad was like my sister and me… a victim to her ambitions for us. Daddy kept working because she kept pushing him. She still does.”

Emma looked at Regina curiously. That was more than she’d ever heard about her family before, and went a long ways to explain, well, a lot about Regina’s particular personality.

“I think you’re like them all," Emma said. "You’re driven and tough like your mom, focused like your dad, and still.. I don’t know, warm in a way, like your sister. She’s warm toward the people she cares about, like her friends, like the way you care so deeply for your son. But at the same time, you’re your own person.”

Regina stopped walking. They were still underground, walking past rows and rows of wines. 

Emma stopped next to her, her back to a shelf of wines.

“You’ve brought something to my life these past couple of months, Emma. Something I never had. Your friendship, your patience, and your astute observations have helped me think about things, especially the way I see the other people in my life.”

Regina reached over and gently, lightly, touched Emma’s cheek, combed a few strands of her long, silky blonde hair behind her eras, allowed her hand to rest on the other woman’s shoulder. 

“I feel better with you around, Emma. You bring a certain lightness into my life, happiness. It scared me at first, but I want to accept it, because you make my life better.”

Emma smiled shyly.

“I hope I can somehow make yours better, too,” Regina said quietly.

Emma reached up, took Regina’s hand, and kissed it.

Regina was studying Emma’s lips. Before she knew for sure what she was doing, she kissed them.

Emma made a small, slightly surprised sound, then started kissing back. Their kiss was soft at first, light, romantic. But Emma walked Regina towards a shelf of wines along the stone wall, and gently pressed her back up to it. Regina gasped slightly as Emma pulled out of the kiss and began to move her mouth south, peppering her neck, shoulders with kisses. She looked up to make eye contact with Regina, questioning her with her eyes, making sure Regina wanted her to keep going.

She did.

Emma unbuttoned the top button of Regina’s blouse, and as she worked, Regina helped to speed up the process. Before she knew it, Regina’s blouse was untucked and unbuttoned, revealing a lacy bra that hugged a glorious chest, and Emma was moving further and further down Regina’s body, her nose trailing along her stomach, while Regina sighed, her eyes fluttered shut, and she leaned back against the shelf of wine…

And then, they heard footsteps on the stairs.

Regina heard them first, gave a bit of a gasp, and gently urged Emma to stand up. Emma stood up, looked around, and realized the source of Regina’s concern. Regina, meanwhile, was buttoning up her blouse and tucking it back into her skirt. 

“We should go,” Regina said a moment later, her chest heaving and she breathed a little more heavily than usual, as they watched a man, possibly just a waiter from the dining room, searching through the shelves for something on the other side of the room.

Regina smoothed out her skirt and led the way to the stairway, her stride long and purposeful.

When they were back upstairs and in the parlor of the Inn, Regina turned to Emma and lowered her voice to almost a whisper. "I would invite you to the room, but Henry is due back shortly. It doesn’t seem like a good idea."

“Probably not,” agreed Emma, though her eyes, which were still wide and bright, told a different story of the ideas in her mind.

“Tell you what,” Regina said, her heart still racing a little. “I seem to remember I owe you a dinner. Come over next week and I’ll make good on that deal."

Emma laughed. "You don’t have to do that. Besides, you made up for it with breakfast this morning."

“Well, you don’t have to come over if you don't want to, of course. It's just there are some matters we could... tend to,” Regina said, her voice heavy with implication. 

“On second thought, dinner sounds great," Emma agreed.


	11. Fire

Regina opened her door a few days later to Emma standing on her porch holding a bottle of wine and soaking wet in the rain.

“Don’t you have an umbrella?” Regina asked her, eyeing Emma’s wet blonde hair hanging limply around her shoulders and ushering her inside.

“No. I don’t mind a little rain.”

“I’ll send you home with one,” Regina said, and graciously accepted the bottle of wine that Emma offered her.

Although she noticed the variety of wine didn’t exactly go with the lasagna she was serving, her eyes lingered on the label. Emma had chosen a very exclusive wine. One that you wouldn’t be able to find at any old corner liquor store - she must have gone to a specialty shop. A part of her found it endearing, and certainly flattering, that Emma had driven out of her way to pick out a special wine just for their dinner.

“This looks delicious,” Regina said as she looked at the wine then led her towards the kitchen where the warm aroma of the lasagna cooking in the oven surrounded them.

“I don’t know a lot about wine, I hope it goes with what you’re fixing,” Emma said sheepishly, then added, “Which, by the way, smells great.”

“Thank you. And this wine will be perfect to sip on while we wait for dinner to finish,” Regina suggested, getting two glasses out of the cupboard.

“Is Henry around?” Emma asked, glancing around expectantly.

Regina shook her head. “No, he’s with a friend tonight. It’s just the two of us.”

“Oh,” Emma said, taking the glass of wine Regina offered her.

“Can I help with anything?” she then asked.

Regina shook her head. “It’s all under control."

“Turnovers, lasagna… is there anything you can’t bake perfectly?” Emma said a half hour later when Regina pulled out the absolutely perfect, cheesy, bubbly and fragrant lasagna from the oven.

“Lots of things,” Regina said, smiling. “I know my limits, and I only make tried and true recipes when I have guests over. Guests who I actually want to stay and not scare away, that is.”

Emma sighed a few minutes later as she took the first bite of the lasagna, relishing in the fresh tomato sauce, the spicy tang of the basil, the gooey, fresh cheese that had been layered between what tasted like homemade pasta.

“This is definitely not going to scare anyone off,” Emma commented as soon as she could speak again.

Regina washed down an elegant piece of lasagna from her fork with a sip of wine and beamed.

“Did you make this pasta by hand?” Emma asked as she studied the perfectly textured sheet of pasta layered in the lasagna.

“I did. I make the pasta for lasagna every so often, and freeze it so I am prepared for occasions like these.”

Emma smiled. “A stash of pasta in case a suitor comes calling.” 

“Precisely,” Regina said, still smiling a bit saucily.

Their conversation continued to flow effortlessly. Regina and Emma had a rhythm where they could talk about many things, easing from one topic to the next. As they spoke, it dawned on Regina how - after the last few weeks - she’d settled into a surprising level of familiarity with Emma. Something that she really hadn’t experienced in a long while. Not with her sister, or colleagues, or any friends. Certainly not with any recent romantic partners.

Her life before Emma had opened Swan Song now seemed to distant. She couldn’t imagine not having the witty and ever-surprising blonde around.

Dinner stretched on. Neither woman wanted to rise from the table and cut the evening short. So they continued sipping wine, their cheeks growing rosy and laughter becoming more frequent.

From time to time, their eyes met, or Emma would watch as Regina bit her lip just so, or Regina would observe Emma’s movements, her lean body twisting gracefully to pick up a napkin that had dropped on the floor, or her toned arms reaching across the table to pass the salad…

Finally, with the salad, lasagna and garlic bread at last consumed and both women knowing they could no longer dwell at the table, Regina suggested they move into her library and have a nip of cider.

They continued chatting over their drinks, Emma criss-crossing her legs underneath her on the designer leather couch as she cradled her glass in her lap, taking small, careful sips, aware of how strong Regina’s brew was. 

Regina sat at first in a separate armchair, sitting regally as she delicately sipped on her drink, but after she stood up to pour them both a small refill, she sat back down not in the armchair but on the sofa next to Emma.

At one point, Regina reached over and placed her hand on top of Emma’s. They were in the middle of a conversation about work, about sourcing organic coffee beans and how the cumbersome process wasn’t all that different than Regina trying to source a rare type of silk. When she felt Regina’s hand on hers, Emma paused, looked down, and then continued talking without missing a beat. Acting casual. But she slipped her hand away a moment later.

Regina cleared her throat nervously after that, and decided to change the topic.

“How are the paintings coming along?” Regina asked. 

“I’ll show you the paintings soon,” Emma said, suddenly looking a little nervous. “I would have shown you sooner, but work’s been a little demanding. So many little details, employees, paperwork and other stuff to deal with. My days fly by. Which, I guess you know all about…” 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t meant to bring up a stressful topic. I was just trying to make conversation.”

“Oh, it’s all right,” Emma said, sighing and sinking back into the sofa, closing her eyes part way. “They’re nearly complete, actually. Just not quite finished. If work’ll stop getting in the way, I’ll have them finished and to you soon.”

Regina studied Emma, reclining on her sofa, her drink in her hands, her eyelashes fluttering shut as she sank deeper and deeper into the sofa, relaxed in the dim lighting of Regina's study and the fire crackling in the fireplace.

“I missed this, Emma,” Regina said softly. “Ever since that morning in Vegas…”

Emma opened her eyes and sat up a bit. She knew what “this” meant. The intimacy, the familiarity, the comfort and friendliness of the two of them, together.

“I’ve been trying not to miss this, but it’s hard,” Emma admitted and dropped her voice, “I just don’t know what’s going to happen, between you and me. Whether our lives can ever really… get in synch.”

Regina touched Emma’s cheek gently. “I want them to.”

Emma took her hand, clasped it, but moved it away from her cheek. 

“Regina,” she whispered in a warning tone. “You know what has happened when you do this. And you said this time you want to take it one step at a time.”

Regina ignored her, leaned in and gave her a gentle, sweet kiss on the lips. She lingered delicately for a few moments, reveling in the taste of Emma, her scent, her warmth.

But then Regina pulled back, never deepening the kiss.

“You’re right,” Regina whispered. “One step at a time.”

But even as she said it, Regina realized that her familiar nerves - the ones that used to flare up every time she was around Emma - had diminished slightly. She was finally feeling confident. But those nerves were now replaced with concern, concern that she had alienated Emma, just when she had come around and decided to open herself up to her.

Tonight, it was Emma’s turn to feel uncertain about the situation. “I should go,” she said. 

Regina relented, nodded, and walked her out of the study. At the entrance, Regina handed her an umbrella from an elegant iron stand near the door.

“It’s still raining,” she said, glancing out the window next to the door and noting the drops clinging to the outside of the glass. 

“Thanks for dinner,” Emma said, accepting the umbrella. “Really, some of the best lasagna I’ve ever eaten.”

Regina smiled. “Any time."

Emma turned toward the inky night. 

"Emma? One more thing.” 

“Yeah?” Emma's blue eyes met hers.

The formidable Regina Mills almost seemed shy as she said, “Henry will be out of the house again the night after next. Would you like to have dinner with me again?”

+

Regina made salmon two nights later, served on a bed of fresh pasta with a garlic, white wine, and butter sauce and tender steamed asparagus. It was incredible. And Emma had thought that nothing would top the lasagna. It was so good, in fact, that Emma slightly mourned the fact that now she knew what really, truly good food was and she’d never, ever eat this well again.

“I don’t know why I own the cafe when you’re the one who cooks so well. I’m also not sure why you don’t have a line of suitors wrapped around the block every night for all of this,” Emma said at dinner.

“Maybe that could be the next business I start,” mused Regina. “Although I don’t have a life as it is, so I have a hard time imagining being able to handle that.”

“Plus your side job as mayor of this town - which, by the way, sorry I haven’t gone to any other town meetings since the winter.“

“I noticed that,” Regina said.

“They got kind of boring, to be honest, when you stopped ripping into me for breaking some sort of town code or something.”

“I could find a town code that Swan Song is inevitably breaking and bring that up at the next meeting if you would like.”

“It’s okay,” Emma said. “I have enough challenges keeping the cafe afloat as it is.”

“Oh?” Regina asked, concern flickering across her face as she set down a wine glass. She hadn’t heard Emma mention any problems with Swan Song before - at least not since the problems she herself had given Emma a few months ago. “Anything in particular?”

“Not really. Just the typical boring challenges of running your own business.”

“I know about those,” Regina said.

“At least you've been successful at dealing with them,” Emma continued, reaching for another piece of bread. “I mean, look at all of this. Everything around us. A beautiful home, a son, a great business. Even your own town.”

"Storybrooke isn't my town."

"Well, you're the mayor."

"My term is up soon," Regina pressed.

Emma laughed. "Okay, fine. You really do have everything, though. Hard work seems to pay off."

“I have almost everything,” Regina corrected. “I’ve been missing something.”

“What?” Emma asked.

Regina shifted slightly and took a deep breath. “Emma, you know what I'm missing."

Emma stopped chewing and met Regina's eyes.

Regina continued. "Someone to share it with. My sister reminded me that Henry is growing up - you saw it at the wedding, dancing with Violet, being his own self.”

“He’s not exactly on the verge of getting married,” Emma pointed out lightly.

“I know. Of course he’s not, and he’ll be at home for a few more years. But it made me realize I won’t always have our little family, he’ll grow up and move on and I will be here in this big empty house, alone," said Regina.

"I didn't know being alone bothered you," Emma said.

It was true. Regina seemed to relish in being on her own. Emma figured it was one of the main reasons she'd been so quick to run every time they'd started to get close. 

"It does," Regina said. "It’s a curse. I am used to it, I know nothing other than it, it’s the easiest thing in the world for me because it’s been my life. But at the same time, I know there’s got to be something better. That’s what makes it also feel unbearable, like the worst fate imaginable.”

Emma thought that sounded a little dramatic, but Regina really did look agitated. Her forehead was scrunched, her hands clasped tensely on the table, resting on either side of her plate. 

Emma just kept listening.

Regina took a deep breath, then finished her thoughts. “I know that having someone to share everything with is better.”

 Emma smiled gently, and to diffuse Regina's tension, raised her glass. “To not being alone. Not at this very moment, at least.”

Regina smiled a little tentatively and nodded, following suit and raising her glass.

“I have a surprise for you after we’re done with dinner,” Emma said when they had sipped the last of their wine.

“A good surprise, I hope?” Regina asked, sitting back in her chair, relaxed again.

“I’d only bring a good surprise for you,” Emma said, smiling as she tucked a piece of blonde hair behind her ear.

“Well then, how about I clean up and you prepare the surprise?” Regina asked.

Emma nodded. “Seems fair. Also, you don’t want me to clean up, I’m terrible at doing dishes.”

“It’s a deal, then,” Regina said.

“Can I set up in the study?” Emma asked.

“Of course,” Regina said. “Assuming it’s not going to leave any sort of mess, is it?” 

“Probably not,” Emma laughed.

Regina worked quickly to clean up the dishes and put things away, listening as Emma made a few trips out to her car and back. 

“It’s ready whenever you are,” Emma called to Regina after a while.

Regina wiped her hands on a tea towel, shut off some of the lights in the kitchen, and went into the study.

“Surprise,” Emma said, and she stepped aside so Regina could see four paintings, completed, two up on the mantel over the fireplace, two propped up in the leather chairs, ready to be used in her advertising campaign.

The colors were beautiful, melding perfectly with the swatches Regina had supplied her with from her inspiration board. The paintings would be used in photos with her lingerie, and were exactly what she was looking for. A painting that had been carefully made, something with a painterly touch, something that didn’t look like a computer-drawn print that anyone could have a graphic designer whip up in PhotoShop. No, Emma’s work, the swirls of color and semi-abstract images were real, beautiful, elegant, filled with artistry.

“Well? Are they okay? I can change anything.” Emma asked nervously, and Regina realized she hadn’t said anything.

“They’re perfect, Emma,” Regina said, genuinely pleased. “These are exactly as I imagined. They’re going to work beautifully.”

“I’m glad you like them,” Emma beamed.

“I can assure you that these will be part of some of the most beautiful promo material I will ever use for my pieces,” Regina said.

Emma smiled. “I like to see you happy, Regina.”

Regina looked at her, a little startled by that. “I suppose I am happy. It feels good, to know that I’m going to create something I will be proud of to promote my product. Thank you for all of your help, Emma."

"Thank you for asking me," Emma said. 

"How did you have time to finish them? We were only talking about this the night before last."

Emma shrugged. “Haven’t been able to sleep much lately, and painting is my old standby, my favorite thing to do to relax. I was glad for the distraction.”

“Well, I suppose I'm benefitting from your misfortune. I appreciate all of your work on these. I’ll arrange for the rest of your payment.”

Emma didn’t say anything. She didn’t really want to go back into talking about business. Not tonight.

“Do you want any dessert?” Regina offered brightly. “A little something to celebrate? I bought a carton of gelato… or perhaps something harder?”

“I don’t know if I should stay much later,” Emma said. “I just wanted to be sure to show these to you tonight.”

“Stay,” Regina said softly, taking a step closer to Regina. “Please.”

“Regina,” Emma said in a semi-warning tone. They were doing so well. She hated to ruin this rhythm they’d gotten into. She didn’t want Regina to do anything she’d regret the next day, to fall back into her pattern before they'd even given this different approach a chance.

Regina took a breath, her eyes soft. She took another step towards Emma. Her posture tonight was strong, confident, almost feline, but her expression was relaxed, calm, and inviting.

It was thoroughly alluring.

“I told you, I am ready for whatever this is,” Regina said, then glanced at Emma’s mouth and placed a hand on her shoulder. “And I think we both know by now that the two of us can’t just be friends.”

Emma nodded slowly. It was true. She could never just be with this woman, sit with her, converse with her, and leave every time.

“Agreed,” she whispered.

Regina took a deep breath and rested a hand softly on Emma’s cheek, her touch as light as a feather.

“You told me, a while back, that I was frustrating, and infuriating,” she began. “But so are you. You call me out. You see things in me that no one bothered to see before. You force me to challenge assumptions about myself.”

Emma didn’t know what to say.

Regina continued, “And your patience with me in of itself has been almost infuriating these last few months - because I don’t know how anyone can stand it. I know you don’t like games, and those are all I knew how to play when came to my romantic life.”

Regina paused, pursing her lips, looking at Emma’s lips, the urge she had to kiss them written all over her face, but holding back.

“Tthe games I’ve played in the past usually result in me losing. I don't want to lose any more," Regina whispered.

Emma looked into her eyes, searching, making sure Regina was speaking the truth.

And she was.

“You’re trembling,” Emma reached up to touch Regina’s hand, and then smiled warmly, trying to calm the woman down, to get her to breathe. She eased her back, urging her to sit on the sofa.

Regina looked slightly flustered. “Sorry.”

“Relax,” Emma urged her softly. “If I’m going to stay, I’m going to do something. Like pour a drink. Maybe that really awesome cider we had a few nights ago?”

“I’ll get the glasses,” Regina offered.

“No, sit. You made dinner and cleaned up, you’ve done enough,” Emma insisted. “I’m pretty sure I know where you keep your crystal, and I definitely saw where you kept the cider. Let me get it.”

Regina nodded. "Well, all right then."

“You're not the only one who can be bossy,” Emma said, smiling playfully. “Stay here.”

Regina hated sitting still, especially when she felt so nervous, excited, agitated that she had just bared so much - too much - to the woman. While Emma went out in search for the cider, Regina stood up and got a self-starting fire log and a few pieces of wood she kept stacked neatly near her fireplace. She put it in the fireplace, arranged a bit of wood around it to make sure the fire would last for at least a little while, and lit the flame. It was early summer, but the night was damp and once again rainy and there had been a bit of a chill in the air, so the fire was a comforting presence.

Emma finally returned.

“Problems finding the glasses?” Regina asked.

Emma shook her head. “No. Found them. Then I got distracted. I found some art supplies in the kitchen.”

“Oh, Henry left them there the other day. He was using them for an art assignment at school.”

“It gave me an idea,” Emma said. “Let me draw you while you sit.”

“What do you mean? Draw me? Like…”

“‘Like one of your French girls,’ yeah,” Emma said, laughing.

“I hope you don’t intend on drawing me in the nude,” Regina said, crossing her legs primly but grateful for the change in topic.

“I was, in fact, hoping that I could,” Emma teased, then quickly added, “But I didn’t think it would realistically be your cup of tea.”

“You thought correctly. I’d hate to have anything like that around it could come back to haunt me. I’m a mother, and a local politician, it doesn’t seem wise,” Regina said.

“None of those things mean you can’t have any fun, but I get your point. Sit down. Relax. Sip this,” Emma instructed, handing Regina her glass of cider. 

After Emma gave her a few brief directions about the best angle to sit relative to the light, she encouraged Regina to relax and she set to work. They chatted a bit, but mostly savored their drinks while Emma worked on her sketch from where she was perched in an armchair, a location with a beautiful view of Regina. As she fell deeper and deeper into her drawing, she propped her feet up on a coffee table, and Regina bit her tongue and chose not to comment on the assault to her antique table. Instead, they both sipped their drinks and unwound as they listened to the fire crackle and pop, a comforting sound in the night.

As the pencil traced across the paper, sketching Regina’s graceful curves, her defined face and brows, her soft face, she realized that Regina looked more peaceful and content tonight than she’d ever seen her. Tension after her outpouring earlier had melted from her shoulders and arms, her hands were resting gently on her lap, her eyes sometimes looking at the fire, then to Emma, then back again. The sketch seemed to inspire a different atmosphere between them, evoking both a heightened conscience of the air and space between them, as well as that peculiar intimacy that accompanies being observed so closely.

It was over an hour by the time Emma finished. She showed Regina her work.

“It’s still a sketch. But I can fill it in, make it a proper portrait later,” Emma explained.

It was good. And Regina loved that Emma had done it with such care, admiring the detail of the shadows of her face, the fine lines of her hair.

“Thank you,” she said, standing up, wrapping her arms around Emma, and gently giving her a kiss.

A few moments later, Regina broke away from the tender kiss, looked into Emma’s beautiful, soft blue eyes, and smiled seductively. 

The moment was right.

“I suppose we are both artists,” Regina said, reaching back to slowly unzip the light grey sheath dress she was wearing. She turned her head, shrugged, and allowed the fabric to drop, revealing her shoulders. She stood up, expertly stepping out of the dress as it pooled at her feet. Underneath the demure, conservative, unassuming dress was an elaborate satin slip, made of lace and soft fabric that - when Emma instinctively reached out to touch it - felt smooth and silky, almost like water under her fingertips. The neck was cut nearly down to her navel, her skin peeking out tantalizing from underneath.

“My handiwork,” Regina whispered, standing before Emma in just the slip and her heels, quickly raking her hair with her fingers, then edging forward, using a hand to gently press Emma back into the couch, leaning over her, then giving her a kiss. 

The kiss was not demure and sweet like it had been last night. This time, it was filed with urgency. In the heat of the kiss, their lips parted, and both were suddenly lost, swimming deep in a sea of abandon.

Regina, however, did not lose her bearings, and was the first to resurface. She encouraged Emma to lay down this time, and Emma, through half-closed eyes, watched as Regina was the one to pepper her shoulders with kisses, starting gently at first but then scattering a few light nips for good measure. Emma’s heart was racing, beating wildly as the woman worked her way down her stomach, then stopped. Regina lifted her head slightly.

“Let’s go upstairs. This couch is constricting.”

Emma's breath caught, wondering if she could even move, but nodded.

It was her first time in Regina’s bedroom, and she didn’t exactly stop for a tour. They resumed kissing as soon as they were in the room, Regina walking them slowly to her large bed. Emma paused her for a moment.

“I like your work,” she whispered, barely maintaining her breath as she raked her hands up and down Regina’s side, “but I’m afraid lingerie, as nice as it is, is lost on me. I much prefer what is underneath.”

And in one fluid movement she finished undressing Regina, the beautiful, delicate slip falling lightly to the floor like a leaf from a tree. 

Regina bit her lip and made a deep, throaty sound at that, betraying her impatience once she found herself completely undressed in front of the other woman. She took back the upper hand as she walked Emma backwards and gently urged her onto her back, onto the bed that welcomed her like a soft, fluffy cloud. Several pillows felt silky next to Emma’s cheek, and her head sank into one of them.

Emma, while still fully dressed, was utterly at the mercy of the other woman who positioned herself on top and took Emma’s wrists, gently pressing them above her head, amidst the endless pillows, and resumed kissing the woman deeply. Emma was soon whimpering with need, and Regina began her journey down, relishing the odd sort of control she had over the situation, despite being completely nude while Emma still lay there, fully clothed, squirming with need. Emma lowered her hands and made an attempt to remove her own shirt, but Regina stopped her, gently taking a hold of her wrists and repositioning them back above her head.

“No,” she instructed gently, but determinedly. “I want to savor every second of you here on my bed. And I want you to enjoy every second of being here, on my bed, as I-“

She kissed her neck, just below her ear.

“-pleasure-“

She edged her hand up Emma’s shirt, skimmed over her bra, and kissed between her breasts while caressing her sides gently with her hands.

“-every-“

She moved her hands to Emma’s waistband, and unbuttoned her jeans, and kissed just above her hip.

“-Square inch… of your body.”

She then gently helped Emma out of her shirt and jeans, leaving her underwear and bra for the moment.

“I don’t want to rush this,” Regina sighed in a deep, sultry voice, before kissing Emma again on the lips.

Emma gave another little whimper as Regina hovered over her for the kiss, but acquiesced, and allowed the woman to, for once, take control, and guide her through the night.

+

For one night, Regina successfully managed to ignore the nagging voice in her head that had told her for months that any romantic pursuit of Emma was wrong, and would end in heartbreak.

The wandering, exploring hands, the heated kisses, the firm instructions to spread, to just breathe, and then, to let go… the feelings of uncertainty and even inadequacy faded away as the night wore on.

The night was one wonderful, lively, spirited catharsis after the next, and when they were too tired for more, they stopped, and rested, laying next to each other for a while, until hands began to wander again, to feel, to embrace, and then fingers, searching for one last release, one last stroke of pleasure, even after they thought they had enjoyed everything that had been humanly possible that night.

It felt indulgent, selfish, and wonderful.

+

The next morning, when Regina woke up to a view of golden blonde hair splayed out on her pillow, she was filled with warmth, and admired how Emma’s hair caught the early morning light that filtered through her window. It looked shiny and ethereal, like straw spun to gold.

Emma was so beautiful, she thought to herself as the woman slept, and so she grimaced when at long last she couldn’t put off getting up. She needed to get to work, and she knew Emma did, too. 

They both went to work, not enough time to linger in the golden morning sunlight that streamed through Regina’s window, no time to process the previous night (or repeat any of the activities of the previous night, even though both women yearned to). They drove to their respective workplaces separately, since Emma had taken her car to Regina’s the night before, and they knew it would be best to not leave it there, lest there be too many questions to field with Henry later when he came home. But as soon as they got to work and parked, Regina went into Swan Song, and like any other day, began the morning with coffee.

And that is how things continued for the next little while: by day, on the surface they remained two professional women who worked near each other, Regina stopping in for coffee breaks, friendly banter marking their daytime interactions. But by night, Emma might visit for dinners that, when Henry wasn’t around, involved late nights of playful quarreling and conversations interspersed with caresses and kisses and gentle touches of fingertips on fiery skin.

As they’d agreed, they didn’t label what they were doing, or overly discuss it. They had fallen into a comfortable, perfect rhythm: it was just the two of them, together.

For now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're still following along, you might be curious about how close to the end we are! I realized that the way I conceptualized this story was in roughly three parts. This chapter is more or less the beginning of that third part and I anticipate the overall story drawing to a close within about 3-4 more chapters. The last couple of chapters really need to be posted together (I don't feel like any readers would appreciate it if I did not do so, hah.) So while I do have the bare bones of everything complete up through the end, I may need a bit of extra time to sort everything out so I can post the final few chapters quite close together, if not at the same time.


	12. Family

“Why didn’t you tell me that Swan Song was struggling?” Regina had come over after work to pick Emma up. They were going out to dinner. It was Emma’s turn to choose, and pizza was the plan for the evening.

(“Let’s have it in the park, overlooking the water,” Emma had suggested over the phone earlier that day, and Regina had to admit, despite the casual food choice, all in all, it was a romantic plan.)

But when Regina arrived at Swan Song, she found Emma, usually so upbeat, was in a bad mood. After she walked behind the counter, she overheard Emma complaining to Ruby that the shop was once again dangerously close to being in the red that month.

“It’s not struggling,” Emma grumbled as Regina interrupted her conversation. “Just not sure how to reconcile some things with the books. I feel like business is decent, but at the end of the month, we’re not making a lot of money. Not as much as I need, and definitely not as much as I want to be making.”

“What does your accountant suggest?” Regina asked as Ruby slipped back out to wait on customers.

“Nothing. He just takes care of tax stuff.”

“Okay. Well, what about suppliers? Are you getting the best prices for the volume of materials you are purchasing? Or leftover inventory? How many things do you have to toss at the end of the week? What expenses do you have that you can trim?”

“I… I don’t know, really, I’d have to look into it,” Emma admitted.

“You might want to,” Regina said. “Tiny details and expenses here and there might not seem like a big deal on their own, but everything adds up.”

“Would you mind taking a look at my books?” Emma asked. “You have tons of experience, and I’m still new at this whole running your own business thing. And, clearly, I’m really new to this whole staying out of the red thing.”

Regina hesitated. 

“Never mind,” Emma said quickly. “You’re busy. I don’t want to bother you.”

“No, that’s not it. I just don’t want to get in an uncomfortable situation where I’m giving you advice on your business. I don’t know everything. A lot of what I do know was learned simply through trial and error, and probably a dose of luck. I don’t want to steer you in the wrong direction,” Regina said, stepping back.

“Right now, I have no one to give me any direction. My parents try to help, but let’s face it, their cupcake shop failed, Swan Song is already way more successful by that standard. I’ll take any advice I can get, because otherwise I’m on my own," Emma said.

Regina smiled. “All right. It’s not a problem, I’ll take a look. I’ll let you know what I think, if there’s anything I see that might help you out. But right now I suggest trimming any costs you can in the short term.”

“Like… what?” Emma asked warily.

“Well, what about selling fewer of the pastries and little snacks that don’t sell as quickly, the varieties that are still around at the end of the day. Or reduce the choices of different filtered coffees you brew every day. Little things like that.”

Emma considered. “I know I should've been trimming more things that don't fly out the door as fast, but I hate to. I like the selection.”

“It’s hard to edit when it involves the things you love. Trust me, I know.”

“You’re right,” Emma admitted.

“And I’ll look at the rest of your paperwork this weekend,” Regina said, taking the folder Emma offered her.

As they walked to the pizzeria, they chatted lightly, dropping the work topics for the rest of the evening. They relaxed, enjoying their food as they sat overlooking the water at a park just a stone’s throw from the pizzeria. 

“I haven’t met your parents yet,” Regina pointed out as they were eating. “You’ve met my family - unfortunately - but I have yet to meet yours.”

“They come by the shop once or twice a week, although they usually come over in the middle of the day, when you’re at work,” Emma said. “We could all have dinner sometime if you want. My mom would love Henry, she adores children and I think she always wished she’d had more.”

“Don’t you have any other siblings?”

Emma shook her head. “No.”

“Your parents really worked for my father’s company?” Regina asked hesitantly.

Emma nodded. “The very one.”

“What did your father do?”

“Software programmer,” Emma said.

“And your mom?”

“She was in human resources.”

“My father retired a long time ago, but he’s still on the board and involved in some things around the company. I came across their job postings recently, and there are some positions open that might be a match for your parents,” Regina said, trying to sound casual.

“Really? I don’t know…” Emma hesitated. “I don’t know how they’d feel about being hired back at the same place.”

Regina shrugged. “There’s been a lot of turnover in the years since they were laid off, I doubt it would be too difficult to come back, especially if they had left on good terms. I could see what I could do.”

“We’re talking business again,” Emma warned.

“It’s more about your parents,” Regina defended herself, smiling.

“Yeah, you volunteering to pull some strings for me. Seems a little shady.”

“How do you think most of corporate America runs? You scratch my back, I scratch yours.” Regina grimaced. “That’s truly a disgusting expression, isn’t it?”

Emma laughed. “I feel weird asking that kind of favor of you. As you just pointed out, you haven’t even met my parents.”

“It’s not a favor, I offered. And I’m not guaranteeing anything. It’s just a thought. You’ve done a lot for me, Emma. I’m happy to do something for you.”

Emma gave her a serious look. “Things don’t have to be precisely equal, you know.”

Regina swallowed. “I know. But I just feel like doing something nice for you, okay? If I can. Think about it. Maybe mention it to your parents sometime.”

“Why don’t you mention it yourself? I’ll talk to my parents, maybe we can plan something so you can finally meet them.”

+

Meeting the parents was an unusual experience for Regina.

She’d scarcely gotten far enough in a relationship - at least in the past decade - to ever do the whole meet the family thing. But as the months had flown by, she eventually found herself there, in that “meet the parents” stage, with Emma.

The summer was drawing to a close, and although they lived in a mild, Pacific coast climate, there was a heat wave in August and everyone flocked outdoors to bask in the summer mood. That was when Emma called up on a crisp, clear Sunday afternoon and said that her parents were having a bit of a cookout, and would Regina and Henry like to join them for dinner?

Regina arrived a few hours later, toting a bored-looking Henry with his eyes glued to the screen of his phone. Henry was suddenly impossible to separate from his phone these days, mainly thanks to a new friend. Regina knew he was texting with Violet. The two seemed to be texting _a lot_ these days.

“Oooh, apple pie,” Emma said as she greeted Regina at the door of a small, but cozy house that was actually rather close to Swan Song, tucked away on a residential street on a steep slope.

“I didn’t have anything else in the house other than apples to bring,” Regina said, as a woman with very short, dark brown hair and a facial structure and soft eyes that looked exactly like Emma’s came to the door, followed by a tall blonde man with a charming smile.

“Welcome! Oh my goodness, that pie smells delicious,” the woman said, a grin spreading across her face.

“Regina, this is my mom, Mary, and dad, David. Mom, dad, meet Regina, and her son Henry, a fellow hot chocolate aficionado.”

“So lovely to meet you both,” said Mary, reaching out and giving Regina warm hug and ushering them inside. “And I also love hot chocolate, Henry. Who needs coffee or tea when there’s hot chocolate?”

“Glad you could join us,” said David, who was wearing an apron and holding a spatula, and excused himself so he could return to where the grill stood, smoke wafting out and into the air, the smell delicious.

“Come outside and have some lemonade,” Mary offered, leading them out to a small back deck, in a cheerful backyard filled with trellises of flowers and trees. Birds were chirping everywhere and splashing in a small mosaic birdbath set in the yard.

“It’s so charming back here,” Regina said, looking around at all of the flowers and decorations. “I also enjoy gardening.”

“Oh do you? I just love being outside, in nature, taking care of my yard,” said Mary, pouring them all tall glasses of pink lemonade.

“My parents don’t drink,” Emma whispered in Regina’s ear quietly as Regina listened politely to Mary talk about her plans for the garden next spring.

“It’s fine,” mouthed Regina quietly, smiling pleasantly.

Before long, David announced that the burgers were ready to go, and Regina followed the rest of the group indoors and helped Emma and her mom finish up with the cole slaw, beans and various other little side dishes.

“You have so much food,” Regina said, taking the bowl of cole slaw to carry back outside. “It looks delicious.”

“I love to cook,” Mary said. “And I especially wanted to invite you over. I’m so sorry, we would have invited you sooner, but Emma was a little secretive about you - we only just found out.”

“Oh, not a problem at all,” Regina said, settling around the outdoor table, watching as David plated up the hamburgers and brought them to the table. “It’s just nice to be here.”

Henry put down his phone at dinner (Regina at least had taught him that bare essential of dinner manners, although most nights she herself had issues with that,) and fit right into the family’s conversations. 

Regina felt a little strange - she couldn’t remember the last time she ate outside, and she was distracted by how odd her own family must have seemed to Emma compared to her incredibly soft-spoken, polite and kind parents. Her whacky sister, her difficult mother, the over-the-top nature of Zelena’s wedding and bachelorette party. Her family was such a contrast to Emma’s completely normal, pleasant, lovely family, who were one step shy of seeming like they’d popped out of a 1950s greeting card. They were polite, kind, didn’t drink, smoke, swear. They stuck to completely appropriate conversation topics, asking Henry about school or Regina about her business. It was delightful, and perfect, and Regina suddenly realized how Emma had grown up in an environment so different than her own. Mary and David may have been somewhat vanilla, ordinary, but they were also warm, and loving, and everything anyone could want out of their parents.

She was also very conscientious of the fact that her father’s company had been the reason they were having a difficult time. She assumed by now they knew who her family was. And although she wasn’t directly responsible, she couldn’t help but feel a little bit guilty.

Which was why, perhaps, over apple pie and vanilla ice cream (Mary had added the ice cream as an option, and it seemed perfect for the warm, humid night), she cringed when David asked about Regina's parents.

“My mother volunteers on a number of boards and plans fundraisers. She always finds something to stay busy,” Regina said. “And my father runs a number of businesses. He’s retired, but he still sits on boards.”

“We visited one of them,” Emma said. “When I went to Regina’s sister’s wedding, I visited a hotel and spa owned by Regina’s family in wine country. It’s really nice there. Really secluded and relaxing.”

“Oh my goodness, I would love to go there someday,” Mary said, clasping her hands.

“You are welcome there any time,” Regina said. “My treat. Just let us know when.”

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly,” Mary shook her head politely, backing off.

“You should at least visit for lunch sometime. It’s really nice,” Emma said.

The day was almost too perfect, and Regina was beginning to wonder if there was any flaw at all with this family. But when, at one point, Regina forgot herself and took Emma’s hand, squeezing it lightly and smiling at her, she noticed Mary glance at them, grew stiff, and got an uncomfortable smile on her face.

 _Oh, so there was the flaw_ , she noted, instinctively releasing Emma's hand, wondering if it has been at all difficult for Emma to tell her parents about them. And the second thought that came to mind was that maybe Emma hadn’t brought so many women home to her mom and dad. 

No pressure, then.

+

“Have you taken many other women home to meet your parents?” Regina gently asked that night, Emma resting in the bed next to her, the sheets wrapped tightly around her body.

Regina and Henry had gone home, and Emma followed a half hour later. Regina let her in quietly after she was fairly certain Henry had gone to bed. Now, basking in an afterglow, Regina’s thoughts turned back to the evening. 

Emma bit her lip. “You noticed."

“Your parents were nice. But seemed a little uncomfortable at times, especially when I took your hand. I didn’t think - sorry - it was just an impulse,” Regina whispered.

“Oh don’t worry about it,” Emma said in a low voice. “And to answer your question, no. Not really. I mean, my parents know I only see women. And except for when I first told them years and years ago - that was a bit touch and go - they are overall supportive and kind. But, you know. I think it’s never going to be completely, 100%, totally cool with them. They do try, and I value my relationship with them, so, it is what it is.”

Regina nodded. “They were very nice. So nice, I didn’t want to contribute in any way to making them uncomfortable.”

Emma smiled sweetly. “You did not. Quite the opposite, both seemed to like you very much. And Henry, too.”

Emma’s hand snaked out from under the covers, and found Regina’s waist. She pulled it closer, urging her to her body. “You were - and are - perfect,” Emma said, then kissed her lightly.

“I’m not perfect,” Regina countered, before threading her hand through Emma’s hair and kissing her deeper.

+

Regina could hardly remember when she’d last been so happy. Everything about her life suddenly felt a little more in focus, a little more manageable, even a bit more balanced.

She’d always thought the opposite would be true. She used to think that if she got into a relationship, it would consume her fully, and that something - work, Henry, or the relationship itself - would suffer because she couldn't possibly be spread so thinly across so many different responsibilities.

Instead, Emma eased her mind and relaxed her in a way that she hadn’t known was possible. She found herself scheduling her days at work better, more thoughtfully, knowing that at the end of the day, she could look forward to either meeting with Emma, or spending some time with Henry, or sometimes both - sometimes she would meet Henry at Swan Song, and Emma would sit down with them, and the three of them would have a light dinner made from things leftover from the day. A salad, gourmet grilled cheese, soup, which had recently been added to the lunch menu to try to attract more of a lunch crowd, or - if it was a special treat - some of the day’s pastries. 

One day, Regina brought over the proofs from her advertisement campaign that had used Emma’s artwork. She set them on a table, and then she, Emma and Henry walked around the table, studying them.

Emma said she was floored to see her work in print.

“I’m like a real artist now,” she said in awe.

Regina laughed. “Not ‘like.’ You _are_ one.”

“It’s pretty cool, Emma,” Henry said.

“Have you ever considered putting some of your paintings up on the walls in here? Perhaps you can even sell them. At the very least, they’d be a unique decoration," Regina said.

“I never thought of it, no.”

“Mom’s right. The walls would be more interesting with them up,” Henry offered.

“If you don’t want it all to be your own work, you could maybe display or sell other artists’ work on consignment,” Regina added. “It wouldn’t make a huge difference in revenue flow, but it would be a way to draw extra people in, and maybe even get a little more well known as an art gallery of sorts. It could be a niche.”

“Maybe I’ll do that,” Emma said, staring at the walls. "If it drew more people in... well, sure beats having Ruby stand outside and hand out coupons."

"And it's not against town code," Regina said playfully.

+

After Regina had scoured Emma’s files - spreadsheets where she kept track of her expenses, payroll documents, lists of the items that she purchased each week, even her insurance documents and lease - Regina found some major issues that could use attention right away. Over an Americano one afternoon at the end of her workday, she pointed these out to Emma.

“Can you look over my expenses, too?” Ruby asked, overhearing them talk as she refilled Emma’s coffee cup. “I desperately need an expert opinion on how to even get business in the first place.”

“I thought party planning was going well?” Regina asked.

“It was okay at first. I keep busy with enough jobs here and there, mostly for birthday parties or bridal showers or little things. It’s not exactly a full-on business yet,” Ruby sighed.

“Which is good for me,” Emma said, smiling up at Ruby. “Because I still get to keep you here for a while longer. But it’s also bad, ‘cause I want you to be successful.”

“Slow at first is normal. There’s no reason it won’t pick up in the future. Just keep promoting whenever and wherever you can,” Regina said.

“I’m trying,” Ruby said.

“Word of mouth - after you’ve done a few successful parties - can also go a long way,” Regina reassured her. “Speaking of which, I’m hosting a cocktail party in about two weeks for some of my most exclusive and loyal customers. I could use someone to make the arrangements. I was going to have my associate Sidney deal with it, but it’s actually a little too important to just pawn off on him.”

“I’d be happy to,” Ruby said, brightening immediately.

Regina laughed. “Let’s discuss it tomorrow. For now - I’ve got to focus on Emma.”

“I thought it would be really liberating to own my own business, but these past few weeks I’ve longed for the perks of working for someone else. Like direct deposit,” Emma admitted later on. “It’s hard to be responsible for every little detail, every day.”

“I love being in control of it all,” Regina confessed. “Although it does consume your life. I sometimes think I would have been a better mother if I had just had more of a normal job, one that allowed me the luxury to go home and get away from my phone and email in the evening. Henry has suffered from it.”

Emma gave her a look. “Henry has also turned into a bright young kid, so you’re doing something right.”

“I sometimes wish I felt as competent as a mother as I do with running a business,” Regina sighed.

“You could do that, you know. I’m sure you could delegate more, get someone else to manage it, sell it… you’re not exactly void of options here," Emma said.

Regina nodded. “I know. But I love getting up and doing what I do every day.”

+

With Regina's guidance, gradually, Emma noticed some improvements at Swan Song. The cash flow wasn’t going to make her rich anytime soon, but Regina's help did have an impact and eased up on some of the strain.

Regina noticed the relief she brought to Emma's face every time she pointed out a little mistake, or answered a question that seemed to have been nagging in the back of Emma’s mind. Seeing Emma's books gradually crawl out of the red was a double-reward for Regina: knowing she was helping, and seeing Emma happy and not have to shoulder the burden of the entire business on her own.

Ruby, meanwhile, worked with Regina on the cocktail party. The cocktail was supposedly for some of her most loyal customers, but Regina also used it as an excuse to invite members of the media and press. The feature that Ruby’s cousin had given her clothing on his blog had given her a bit of a boost and a little street cred and Regina was pleasantly surprised when Corset, a trendy, edgy fashion magazine (both online and print) accepted her invite and showed up to the cocktail. 

“You did wonderfully,” Regina said to Ruby later that night as they were cleaning up. 

Regina had second-guessed her decision to hire Ruby for a formal, work event when she realized she only was familiar with Ruby’s portfolio for bachelorette parties, but Ruby ended up being perfect for handled the evening event - from suggesting the trendy small dishes that were passed around, to hiring an amazing bartender who made artisanal cocktails and served fine beers and delicious wine, to her insistence on hiring an edgy live musician who ended up setting the tone perfectly. Ruby created an event that Regina felt was on-brand, yet she would have never come up with it on her own.

"Quite a change from planning a Vegas bachelorette," Regina said. 

"I loved every second of it," Ruby said. "Although I have got to get some nicer shoes. Does everyone in the world own Louboutins?"

"Just at this party. And I'll send you some."

"What? Are you serious?"

Regina raised her eyebrows. "I have an extra red pair I never wore. They didn't fit me well, but I think they'll suit a party planner who has impeccable taste."

+

The next day, Corset magazine had a glowing review of the event and some of Regina’s latest lingerie pieces, and Ruby received two calls requesting her services to plan other industry events. As promised, Regina sent Ruby the shoes, and received a gushing thank-you note not long after.

With Regina’s cocktail event out of the way and Swan Song suddenly, safely in the green, both Emma and Regina’s work lives and personal lives settled into an easy, comfortable, stable, happy routine. As the seasons changed from summer to fall, Regina was starting to wonder why she had ever doubted her ability to make things work with Emma in the first place, when the past few weeks had been so fulfilling - professionally, personally, and socially.

And then she got a call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! It's time, it's time. I have the rest of the story written and I really, really enjoyed the journey, so thank you all for being here with me. You'll soon see why I wanted to post the final chapters together. I wanted to maintain a flow, despite a few time jumps. See you on the other side. :)


	13. France

“Is this Regina Mills?”

“Yes,” Regina said, half-distracted that morning. Her coffee was almost gone; she supposed she’d have to run over to Swan Song soon for a refill. She would go as soon as she got off this call.

“Regina, this is Christophe, with the Gaulle-Boisvert Group," said a heavily-accented voice on the other end.

“Hello,” Regina said, perking up a bit. She recognized the name - she’d met a few people from that company in Paris months ago about the possibility for her line being carried in their department stores in Europe.

“Ms. Mills, our Executive Vice President would like to speak with you concerning FORBIDDEN. Would you be available for a conference call tomorrow or Wednesday?”

"Of course," she said, scrambling to open up her calendar.

Regina made the appointment, and immediately focused all of her attention and energy on preparing.

And so, on Wednesday, she met over videoconference with the Group, a company that owned a large network of department stores. They were stores she’d admired so many years ago when she'd been in Paris as a student.

Now the owners were speaking to her, listening intently to her brief synopsis about FORBIDDEN, its origins, its future. The target market, how she managed to be a viable business in a volatile industry.

She did what she was best at: she talked about everything that was going well, focusing on all of the merits of her work and how the lingerie was superior to anything else of its kind. 

And in return, they gave her a presentation about themselves. About their company, its illustrious and storied history and the current success and popularity of its network of retail stores throughout Europe. Their plans for growth and expansion.

Regina thought the meeting was working towards to an offer to carry her line in some of their stores, an offer that she had anticipated ever since they set up the meeting. She was eager and excited for that to be the case.

It was not.

 instead, they extended an offer to buy her entire company. The store. The line. The designs. Her work. They would manage designers, her employees. Everything.

Regina, ever the professional, kept her surprise at bay as she continued the conversation. They began talking about negotiations, when and how those could take place, putting a dollar number on her company.

They went on and on, Regina struggling to stay on top of the conversation and making notes as they kept talking, but in reality, her head was spinning. Purchasing her entire company was not exactly a possibility that she had anticipated. She didn’t know what she would do.

As they continued to speak, the meeting going into its third hour, they told her they intended to keep her on as a consultant for at least two years as a part of the acquisition, so she could oversee the direction of the line and possibly even work in another capacity within their company.

Regina struggled to contain her excitement. Working - as a consultant, no less - for a company as renowned as the Gaulle-Boisvert Groupe was a job she had pictured herself in over the years. She always thought that someday she might be able to do that after she’d seen FORBIDDEN run its course. She had pictured herself settling into a nice, stable job on someone else’s dime, in some glamorous office in New York or London or Paris, valued for her hard work and the experience and expertise in the industry she’d worked so long. 

Now, only in her mid-30s, the opportunity had come up much sooner than anticipated.

When at last the conversation wrapped up, and Regina thanked them calmly and the call was over, she sat, alone in her office, tapping a pencil softly on the side of her desk, contemplating what had just happened.

Just when everything was getting so comfortable in her life… this happened.

+

“Someone upset your apple cart?” Sidney asked as she eventually ventured out of the cocoon of her office to get a coffee refill in the office machine this time. She couldn’t go to Swan Song, not now.

“You could say that,” Regina said.

With Sidney standing next to her, suddenly it hit her that she needed to find out more about what this deal entailed. She was responsible not just for herself and her company, but an office full of people who depended on her for work, and a boutique downstairs with employees like Belle, who depended on her. She couldn’t leave her shop, leave everyone behind. Leave them out, unemployed, searching for new jobs. 

“Anything I can help with?” He asked.

“Not now,” she said quietly, and returned to her office with the coffee.

The first thing she did was call her lawyer's office. She hadn’t needed to draw upon their services very often, thank goodness. They weren't exactly cheap. She explained the situation and that she needed someone to read over the contract she'd been emailed after the call. They agreed, and she scheduled an appointment with one of the lawyers on Monday.

And then there was Emma.

Regina wasn’t going to see Emma that evening. Emma had said earlier she was working late because there would be live music at Swan Song that evening, and Regina had invited Violet and her father over to have dinner (she’d promised Henry a while back that she would, and she welcomed the distraction).

Somehow, she ended up missing Emma over the weekend.

At the last minute, Emma said she needed to work all day Saturday, and Regina, who was finalizing designs for a New York fashion show, spent the time working. Or at least, pretended she was working. In reality, she was mulling over the call.

Finally, on Sunday, she and Emma scheduled a lunch date.

“Everything okay?” Emma asked as they picked up sandwiches from a delicatessen called Granny’s and planned to drive to the park to eat.

Emma suspected something was up. Regina could tell. Not much got past Ms. Swan.

“It’s fine. Just distracted about some work things,” Regina said, hoping Emma would accept that answer.

She needed more time.

She knew she shouldn’t keep the news of the offer from Emma - knew that it was not going to get easier to tell her as time went on - but at the same time, she had to sort out what she was going to do on her own.

And she didn’t really know what to do.

On Monday, she met with a lawyer. To her surprise, she found that the lawyer the office had sent over to review the contract was someone who'd been a frequent visitor to her shop. 

Mr. Gold.

Belle’s boyfriend. If such a term could even apply to him? The man, well into his fifth decade and possibly older, was not exactly a _boy_.

Belle was coming in late that morning because of an appointment, so Regina started the meeting off on the wrong foot when she inadvertently told him as much and he had to explain that for once he wasn’t here for Belle. 

“My apologies,” Regina said, her stress threatening to boil over. “Why don’t you join me upstairs in my office? Can I get you a cup of coffee?”

“How is the offer? Regina asked when they’d settled into the table in her office, desperate for a second opinion.

“I can only answer from a legal standpoint,” he said. “But it’s a solid offer. There are only a few exceptions I’d recommend you propose.”

“Is it too good to pass up?” Regina asked, thinking aloud.

“That, my dear, is for you to decide,” Mr. Gold said. “But the main caveat I saw - and I am sure you did as well - is that you would need to move to Paris for two years in order to work as the consultant in the position they offer you.

“Paris?” Regina asked, uncertain.

She hadn't seen that.

Mr Gold nodded. “Paris,” he repeated.

“If you will excuse me, I will be on my way out,” Gold said after pointing out the other redlines.

“Of course,” she said distractedly, standing up.

“If you don’t mind, I think I hear Belle downstairs. I need to speak with her fora moment before I leave?” he asked.

As if she would say no to the man - he had a rather stoic presence that unsettled her - and although Regina backed down from few people, she had no interest in protesting.

“Not at all,” she said, sitting back down as he showed himself back downstairs.

+

Regina agonized over the decision for another day, but judging from their daily phone calls, the company seemed anxious for her to make a decision, and they seemed to be on a somewhat short timeline. This wasn’t going to be a long, drawn-out offer; the Group wanted a decision.

It was a good offer and Regina knew it. In an industry where so many businesses went bankrupt, thrived one year only to close the next, to have such an offer was outstanding. For someone to take over and absorb her line into a larger whole, one that would give her pieces a broader audience and the label more prestige, and give her a more than generous sum of money in return for her hard work and vision that she’d built the company with, and to offer _her_ position that reflected her experience and expertise, gave her the type of recognition she'd always envisioned her work would lead her to one day, well... it was an ideal situation. Career-wise.

And not being the only person responsible for an entire business would mean fewer of the daily stresses and hassles it entailed. She would have time to spend with Henry, and that was important. She knew she had precious few years left before he would be in the next phase of his life, college, or a job of his own, or even a family, eventually.

Being handed this opportunity was significant.

The next day, she scheduled a call with the Group to ask the one question she had - the one lingering doubt - and that was whether she could keep her shop in Story Brooke, allow it to continue to sell exclusively FORBIDDEN pieces. 

She was attached to the store that she’d lovingly designed and decorated and worked so many long hours in, and did not want to see it close. She was relieved when the Gaulle Boisvert Groupe agreed to it; they said that small provision could easily be worked into an offer. 

This way, Regina figured, at the very least she had options back in Story Brooke. She could come back to it someday if she didn’t want to consult with them forever. And those who were working in the shop would keep their jobs.

As the days came and went, and she couldn’t get it off of her mind, she began to realize that she couldn’t imagine saying no to the opportunity. She couldn't turn her back on a respected, prestigious company handing her a beautiful career, bundled in a package tied with a silk ribbon. 

It felt right.

Except for one thing.

She barely slept the nights following the call. She sat, wide awake in front of her computer screen, and researched schools for Henry. She figured out the cost of living in Paris, hammering out details about where they could live, everything. 

The only issue - the one provision she could not write into her contract - was Emma.

Emma, she knew, would stay behind. By following an opportunity she knew she wanted, and had earned, and had deserved, she would be walking away from the very woman who had provided her with a unique and rare balance in her career-driven life. 

Emma had added inspiration and calm and happiness to her life for the first time in a very, very long time.

+

The morning she made her decision, she was slightly late for work. She walked into the shop to a very cheerful Belle and a small group gathered around Belle, admiring something on her hand.

Belle looked up as Regina walked in and gave her a wide smile and waved her over.

“What is this all about?” Regina asked, walking over. 

The group parted so she could see.

Belle held up her hand. “Rum- I mean, Mr. Gold - proposed to me last night over dinner.”

Regina smiled. “Congratulations. Such thrilling news for you.”

“Thank you,” Belle said. “Regina, mind if I chat with you a moment?”

“Of course,” Regina said. “Come up to my office when you are ready.”

Belle nodded. “Thank you.”

+

“Come in,” Regina said fifteen minutes later when Belle knocked on her office door.

“Hi,” Belle said, taking a deep breath and nervously smoothing her skirt.

“Sit down,” Regina said.

Belle sat in the guest chair in front of her desk. “Regina, I just wanted you to know... I'm pregnant.”

“Oh. Well, another congratulations is in order then,” Regina said, smiling.

Belle smiled nervously. “Thank you. I had to tell you - I’m going to show pretty soon.”

“You have quite a few changes coming up in the next little while then, don’t you?” Regina said.

Belle nodded. “I wanted to let you know, because, well, I’m not going to come back to work after the baby is born.”

“I see.”

“And I wanted to give you plenty of notice. I’d be happy to train whomever takes my place, do whatever you need.”

“Well, I appreciate that,” Regina said.

And so the world keeps turning, Regina thought to herself, looking at the young, flushed, excited woman sitting before her. She certainly chose an interesting man to tie herself to, but opposites attract, Regina thought to herself, the image of Emma flashing briefly before her eyes.

“I’m afraid there are quite a few changes coming here as well,” Regina said after a moment of Belle sitting uneasily before her.

“Oh?” Belle asked.

“I was planning on announcing it tomorrow, but I might as well tell you now. I’d appreciate it if you keep it under wraps, though. I’m taking a job offer in Europe.”

“Oh,” Belle said, the surprise crossing her face.

Regina nodded. “The company - this company, FORBIDDEN - is being acquired by a fairly well known outfit based in France. The shop will remain here - and as far as I know, if I can help it, some production will even remain here. But I will be working out of Paris.”

“Wow, Paris. Now it’s my turn to congratulate you,” Belle said.

“Thank you. I’m pleased,” Regina said.

Belle nodded, still smiling. “Well, my offer still stands, I'd be glad to do anything to help.”

Regina nodded. “I appreciate that.”

Belle hesitated and glanced toward the door. “I suppose I should get back to work.”

“Of course. And like I said… I’ll let everyone else know tomorrow,” Regina added.

Belle nodded in agreement, then pursed her lips. “Is… there anything else?” she asked Regina before standing up.

Regina took a deep breath and forced a smile. “No. No, that’s all.”

Belle nodded. “Congratulations again,” she said, rising and walking out of the office.

Regina watched her go, embarrassed to discover that tears were brimming in her eyes.

+

Despite her hesitation during her meeting with Belle, the decision about whether or not she wanted to pursue this opportunity was, in the end, not a difficult one to make. Regina’s real challenge was telling Emma, and knowing that the beautiful little world they’d finally managed to build together would soon be something of the past.

And it was all her fault.

She asked Emma to dinner that night, and as she knew she would, Emma enthusiastically accepted.

Regina felt awful.

+

“You…want to go,” Emma said, realization dawning on her face that night at dinner.

Regina had taken her to one of their favorite places. It was called The Grotto; a beachside restaurant, about a thirty minutes or so drive along the coast.

The restaurant was not busy, although there was live music - a sort of subdued jazz - and a special on one of Emma’s favorite foods, an appetizer called beachy keen cheese poppers, little puffs of cheesy, garlicky goodness that were shaped like sand dollars.

But the cheese poppers had been largely ignored once Regina launched into her news.

And as Emma sat across from her, her blue eyes studying Regina, reading her, oscillating from happy and excited and congratulatory to heartbroken and torn and sad, all of the emotions hitting her at once as Regina told her about the offer, Regina felt the pang of sadness and guilt and hurt that the very reason she had never wanted to get into a relationship - those conflicting feelings she’d felt in her early days with Emma, sitting with her for drinks and saying they could never be more than friends - all of her reasons for not wanting to get into a relationship were perfectly justified, because here she was, sitting with Emma again and feeling absolutely dreadful that she was making another human being feel so poorly.

And feeling quite poorly herself.

“You got the offer, and you want to take it,” Emma repeated, knowing the story before Regina had even finished telling it.

Regina looked at her nervously. “I really do.”

Emma nodded, her eyes narrowed and forehead crinkled in concentration.

“Any reason you didn’t tell me sooner?” There it was, that edge, that bitterness that Regina so dreaded hearing coming from her, as deserved as it was.

“I only got the offer mid-week last week. I had to take a few days to think about it, plan things out, and decide. I didn’t want to leave you in the dark for too long,” Regina said, looking at her hands in her lap, nervously playing with her bracelet. “I knew I had to tell you by today.”

Emma nodded, softening slightly, though her brow was still furrowed in concentration.

“Well, you should take it.”

Regina looked over at her, slightly startled.

Emma smiled, slightly sad, but also, a smile that was filled with genuine warmth. “You’ve worked hard for everything. Now it’s time to reap the fruits of your labor.”

“I never wanted it to end like this, to do this to you,” Regina explained quickly. “I tried not to fall for you. Because I knew in the end, it would be..."

Emma reached out and took her hand. 

“I know. And you warned me not to get involved with you, and I went against your warning anyway,” Emma said, smiling.

“And I’m glad you did,” Regina said, feeling her eyes mist.

“But ultimately, life is more than just us,” Emma said, smiling sadly. “You should do what’s best for every aspect of your life. This is for Henry, too. It sounds like this will give you a more normal job, some time to spend with him.”

Regina nodded. “I've thought everything through."

“I know you did,” Emma said. “And I don’t want you to stay here on my account, only to regret it later and have it ultimately drive us apart anyway.”

Regina nodded. “Thank you for understanding. I didn’t know…well, I didn’t know how you’d react. If I were you, I’d hate me.”

Emma’s eyes stayed on hers. “I don’t want you to go, if that’s what you want to hear. That's the truth. But I also want you to be happy. Only you can know what will make you happy, in the end.”

Regina took a deep breath. “These last few months have been some of the happiest of my life. Truly.”

Emma smiled. “I’ve been happy, too. And I’ve learned a lot from you, by the way.”

Regina laughed. “Please. I’m the one who owes you everything.”

Emma shook her head. “I know how to balance my books now, I have a slightly better idea of which wines go with what food, I have a vague understanding of why people would buy designer bags, and I’ve gone back to making art. And hanging it in Swan Song.”

“You’re hanging it up in the cafe now?” Regina asked, momentarily forgetting her own issues.

Emma nodded proudly. “Even got an offer on a painting yesterday, and a decently favorable write-up by some art critic.”

Regina smiled. “That’s great.”

They were silent for a moment, the song playing in the restaurant shifting to a new song.

“I think we’ve both learned a thing or two this year?” Emma asked quietly.

“That we have,” Regina said, smiling back and squeezing her hand.

“Any chance you’ll be opening a Paris Swan Song any time soon?” Regina asked a little while later.

Emma laughed. “Probably not. But maybe it’s time I look into finally getting a passport.”


	14. Fallen

**One Year Later**

“I thought I was just going to see you, not actually _go_ with you to all of your fancy events,” Emma said to Regina over breakfast one morning. Regina had met her at her hotel that morning for breakfast and had just informed her of their plans to attend an event that night.

After arriving at Charles de Gaulle airport two days ago, and being picked up in a driver that Regina had sent for her - not a taxi, not some sort of app car share service, but a bona fide, suit-wearing, Mercedes towncar-driving driver, Emma had spent her first days in Paris while Regina was at work wandering around, going to museums, sketching, and taking pictures of the buildings, scenery, the river, the people.

“It’s no pressure, trust me,” Regina said. “I just want you there.”

She sounded tense.

“I’ll be there,” Emma said gently.

“Good. Can you be ready at about 7:15? I should pick you up at your hotel around 7. The dress code is fairly dressy.”

“Dressy? Um, sure.”

Regina waved her goodbye in the hotel lobby and was off in a cloud of perfume. Emma instantly called Ruby and walked out of the hotel, into the sidewalk.

“How’s the city of loooove going?” Ruby asked.

Emma could hear music in the background.

“Don’t say it like that,” Emma said.

“Say it like what? Luuuuuhhhrve,” Ruby said, emphasizing it even more.

“We’re just friends at this point,” Emma said, rolling her eyes at Ruby’s comments for the millionth time. “Look, Ruby, I need help. I have kind of a fashion emergency. Regina’s asked me to go with her to some work thing - industry thing, I assume - and I have no idea what to wear. I’m not even sure I brought anything dressy enough.”

“What’s the event? What’s the dress code?” Ruby asked, growing serious.

“Regina just said it’s cocktails and dinner and ‘fairly dressy.’” Emma said, stopping along the river and sitting down on a bench. A group of what appeared to be American students walked past her, speaking loudly in English.

“Hmm. Okay, I think my cousin might be able to help. He’s got some friends at a big department store there. Lemme text him, tell him you need something to wear to some fancy Paris event…”

“Should you really be bothering him for this?” Emma asked.

“Trust me, he’s a busy guy but he lives and breathes this kind of thing. Texting him now. Hopefully he can reply right away, but you never know with him.”

“So while we wait for his reply, how are you lovebirds doing on the Continent? What’s it like following her around all these glamorous places and events?” Ruby asked.

“It’s different,” admitted Emma. “You know me. I’m not really this… fancy. Her apartment is beautiful, and she put me up at this insane hotel, but every day she works longer hours than she did back home.”

“Really? I thought she moved there because it was such a great offer, would give her more family time with Henry…” Ruby started, but she was interrupted by the faint sound of a chime.

“Oh! It’s my cousin’s text,” Ruby continued. “Okay, he’s got instructions for you. Go to Maison de la Tour - it’s on Rue du Commerce, it’s a little shop. You should be able to hop on the metro and get there - and ask for a guy named Dominic Aubin. He’ll be able to fix you up with something. And he’ll be expecting you.”

“Wow, that was fast. I’m on my way. I feel like I majorly owe your cousin. What should I do? What do I pay him?”

“Just give me your eternal gratitude, and a Saturday off when you get home, and as for my cousin, if anyone asks you what you’re wearing, just drop his name and say he is your stylist or something. And Instagram your outfit and tag him. Something like that. Don’t worry about it.”

“I have no idea how to Instagram, but I can maybe ask Henry later. Thanks. You two are kind of like my fairy godmothers right now.”

“Get moving, lady. Let me know how it goes tonight.”

+

Emma couldn’t help but feel a bit like a princess. Dominic greeted her at the store, an old store that, with its stained glass windows, looked more like a place of worship than a place of retail. 

“The building is a part of a restored chapel,” he explained, as he whisked her into a private fitting area on an upper floor, and after trying a few dresses, skirts, and shirts on - they were handed to her so quickly she could barely see what each thing was - she (or rather, Dominic), settled on a slim fitting leather pants that were classy but had a little edge. The top was a soft black blouse, and they even lent her some accessories. No one could decide if a hat would be appropriate for the event, so instead they chose some statement shoes for her to wear. It all felt good. It felt like her. They gave her a small red clutch, and sent her on her way. The outfit was on loan, and they were going to send someone to collect everything from her the next day at her hotel. The loan thing was good, because leather pants and blouse by a French designer was just a little out of her budget. And by “little,” she was pretty sure they were worth more than her car. And possibly also her house.

Before she left the store, she was ushered to a cosmetics department, where a French woman who looked like she was straight out of a stereotypical French movie - she had a sleek black bob, a colorful silk scarf tied around her elegant long neck, and a black shirt - applied a light layer of makeup in front of a brightly lit mirror.

And so, at exactly 7 on the dot, Emma was ready. When Regina arrived at her hotel room to pick her up, Emma opened the door and Regina paused, her mouth falling open slightly.

“Wow.”

Emma grinned. “Hey, you can’t always have the monopoly on fashion, you know.”

“You look… just, fantastic,” Regina said, shaking her head in amazement, and setting down her leather laptop bag and her purse. “How did you…?”

Emma shrugged. “Ruby, and her amazing connections. What can I say. Other than I can’t spill anything on this outfit tonight, because it’s on loan and I’d have to mortgage my house to pay them back.”

“Well,” Regina said, running a hand through her hair and biting her lower lip, “Perhaps we should take it off, then, just to make sure you won’t spill anything on it.”

Emma laughed as Regina drew close to her. She ran her hands lightly down Emma’s sides, her fingertips grazing her hips, and she leaned her head towards her, to give her a nuzzle and then a few light kisses on her neck.

This is how it had been since she’d arrived.

They’d fallen back into old patterns, as though they’d never been apart. Flirting, touching, tension.

But also… keeping it more or less PG.

“I think you said we have to leave at 7:15,” Emma said gently. Reluctantly. She gently held Regina’s forearms, encouraging her, trying to channel strength into her.

Regina let out a little frustrated noise. “I don’t want to go.”

“This thing sounded important this morning,” Emma pointed out.

Regina sighed. “It is. Very. It’s an awards ceremony for the most outstanding achievements of some of Paris’ most significant fashion designers, companies and others in the industry.”

“Are you nominated?”

Regina shook her head. “No, but the company that now owns FORBIDDEN is nominated for a few awards. I have to be a team player.”

Emma raised her eyebrows. “How’s that going for you?”

Regina laughed. “It’s going. As you know, being a team player not my strength.”

Regina took a bottle of water from Emma's desk. She poured herself a glass and took a few dainty sips, then sat on the edge of the bed, kicking off her heels.

“It’s just… a lot,” she admitted, looking up at Emma longingly.

“You handle pressure, and hard work, better than anyone I know,” Emma urged.

“Except for you. You’re the one who is so good at handling hard work and pressure,” Regina countered.

She finished the glass of water, and moved toward the bathroom and began to freshen up her makeup.

“You’re okay?” Emma asked, stealing a glimpse of Regina as she combed her hair and put on some earrings she'd fished out of her purse.

She looked radiant in the glow of the light, in front of the big mirror.

“You’re with me, so yes, absolutely,” Regina said, catching Emma’s eyes through the mirror.

Fifteen minutes later, they were in another black Mercedes, being whisked across town, the creamy-white buildings of Paris sliding by outside of their window as they traveled down endless busy, crowded streets under the pale blue evening sky.

Emma studied Regina, who was calm as they rode in the car. She admired the woman for her ability to at once hold it all together, rally her energy after a long day.

Emma still couldn’t believe she was going with Regina to this kind of event. She thought that the would see Regina a little bit, take her week in Paris as an opportunity for her to get a little glimpse of Regina’s world. Find out how the woman was doing. 

In between seeing Regina, Emma had planned on just hanging out, soaking up the city and trying to figure out what the fuss was all about.

Instead of getting a peek, she was plunged right into it, like tonight. When they arrived, they went upstairs in an elevator that only stopped at one floor and emerged into a beautiful rooftop party, glowing with millions of fairy lights forming a canopy overhead. 

Regina introduced Emma to everyone they met as they mingled and smiled and talked. Emma watched the woman - so very in her element amongst other designers and business people - handled conversations and questions with grace and ease, exchanging business cards, laughing, chatting and making sure that she circulated and spoke with everyone she needed to.

Oh, and Regina spoke French.

Emma had no idea how fluent Regina was until she was introduced to a gentleman named Monsieur Arnaud who clearly did not speak English, and Regina smoothly switched to the language of Voltaire. They laughed and talked, and Emma stood there, straining to see if she could catch any words she recognized - she’d taken just a year of French back in high school, a class she’d spent most of the year devising ways to skip - to little avail.

Emma quietly cursed her teenage self, wishing she’d skipped just a couple less classes to that now she could understand what was going on.

Regina interpreted a few things for them, a few pleasantries towards the end of the conversation, before Monsieur Arnaud bid them good night and they moved on to the next conversation.

Regina was so at home during the cocktail, navigating the room expertly with a glass of chilled white wine in one hand, the other gesturing elegantly as she talked.

Emma lingered at her elbow, privy to the conversations and small talk. Regina acted like she knew a lot of people they were mingling with, and after asking about themselves, as soon as she had the opportunity, always talked up FORBIDDEN.

“It’s a line that is meant to take a woman back to another time, when she wanted to be unique, fashionable, wear something that not everyone else had," Regina would say to one journalist. 

Then to another designer, she might add, “the fabrics are sourced from only the finest fabric makers whom I met on a recent trip to Japan…”

“You look like you’re in a little over your head,” a man with a heavy accent said as Emma snuck off at one point while Regina was deep in conversation, wandering over to the bar on her own and ordering a Manhattan.

Emma nodded at the man. “I am. I don’t know a thing about fashion.”

“You look very nice for someone who doesn’t know anything about fashion,” the man said, raising his eyebrows suspiciously over his dark-rimmed glasses.

Emma looked down. “A friend’s handiwork. Are you in fashion?”

The man shook his head and gazed over her shoulder at someone across the room with loving eyes. “No, but my partner very much is.”

Emma followed his gaze to one of the men Regina was talking to.

“We can relate, then,” Emma said, her own eyes lingering on Regina, how confident and at ease she was amongst the group.

“Indeed,” the man said, lifting a glass of wine to his lips and sipping. “If you’re not in fashion, what do you do, Ms.-?”

“Swan. Emma. And I own a coffee shop back home in California,” Emma said.

“Very charming. Have you tasted the coffee here?”

“Definitely. Wouldn’t come to Paris and not sample what the locals like. It’s really good. I’ve learned I’m doing everything wrong,” she joked.

“The coffee is much better in Italy, I find,” the man said. “But it’s good here as well.”

“What do you do?” Emma asked. “And - you aren’t from here, are you?”

“I’m from Denmark, but I work here in Paris now. I’m an aerospace engineer.”

“Impressive,” Emma said.

“You and I should team up, figure out how to get better coffee on commercial flights,” he joked.

“I’d like that. So aerospace engineering? You’re way out of your element at these things too,” Emma observed.

The man nodded, “I am. This is a very - what’s the right word - showy industry. I’m much more at home behind a computer, at a desk, than these things. But Raoul loves what he does, and so here I am, being supportive.”

“Regina’s married to her work,” Emma commiserated. 

“What can I say. It’s what they love, and we love them. So here we are,” the man said softly, his gaze returning to the other man, taking another sip of the wine, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

_Love_. Emma hadn’t thought much about that word, but hearing it escape the man's lips gave her pause. 

The way the man was looking at Raoul, Emma knew that she looked at Regina that way. 

She felt it to her core. 

It had been buried for many months, yes. But standing there, watching the woman navigate the room with such flair, and beauty, and grace, she knew, deep down, it was there. 

Even after a year of waiting, a year apart, a year’s separation from Regina, and minus the few times she’d seen Regina when she had traveled home briefly for business, or to visit family - after all of this time, she felt it.

“Here we are,” Emma echoed him, and took a sip of her own drink.

+

After the endless parade of cocktails and chitchat followed by an awards ceremony and five course meal, they returned to Regina’s small apartment.

Regina toed off her heels and gracefully sat down on the bed, tucking her legs underneath her. Emma kicked off her heels, and sprawled out next to her. 

“You live an enchanted life,” Emma said sleepily. “I mean, just look at this room. And the view… the old, fairy tale street below, the fact you can see the tip of the Eiffel tower from your balcony…”

“Are you enjoying it?” Regina asked.

“Of course! This is so far from my world - but I like seeing a bit of yours. It’s interesting.”

“Interesting?”

“I like watching you in it,” Emma said, smiling. "You were beautiful tonight."

Their eyes met and Emma sat up and kissed her gently.

Regina shuddered slightly at Emma’s kiss, their first since she’d arrived in Paris. 

The flirting and teasing and the little sparks of their touched the past two days had been a preamble to this. The wonderful feeling of comfort of the blonde's lips on her own, her hand on the small of her back, pressing her closer.

“Tomorrow,” Regina said softly as their lips finally parted, “is your day. I want to have dinner with you. Just the two of us. No work. I want to stop, and enjoy being with you here.”

“Why wait to start enjoying things tomorrow night?” Emma asked mischievously, kissing her deeper.

Regina smiled, and surrendered.

+

Regina had all day meetings, this time with potential suppliers. She’d invited Emma along, since it mainly involved visiting a variety of different textile warehouses throughout the city and she could easily tag along.

But Emma declined, as last night she’d gotten a list of some of the best cafes in Paris from the aerospace engineer she’d chatted with at the bar and decided to make her way through the city, doing some research for her own business. Plus, it would give her extra time to plan the perfect evening. 

She’d also received a restaurant recommendation from him - romantic, small, charming, delicious food. Reservations were a must he had warned her, so mid-afternoon, Emma made her way to the restaurant, which was located in the St-Germain neighborhood, and made a reservation for that evening.

On her way back from an afternoon of wandering and drinking coffee, and perhaps it was the clear, perfect summer evening or the three very strong coffees she’d sampled that afternoon, but Emma was buzzing with excitement. She stopped at a flower shop and bought a big bouquet of pink and red blooms, and continued back to Regina's apartment, hoping to arrange them before Regina returned for the evening. (Regina had handed her a big skeleton key to the apartment last night).

She beat her home.

After Emma arranged them in a vase- she found one in a little cupboard below the sink - she got ready, taking a shower, washing the day’s dust and city grime off of her skin. She dressed, put on makeup, even carefully blow-dried her hair - something she never did. Put on dark jeans and a soft, long-sleeved shirt. 

And waited.

 Regina must be running late, she decided, looking nervously over at the clock on the cable box under the television. She turned on the TV to some news network, turning down the volume most of the way.

She grew bored of scrolling through her phone, so she went outside and snapped some photos from the balcony, then took some photos of the balcony itself.

The sun sank lower and lower in the sky.

They were definitely going to be late for their dinner reservations now. She wondered how forgiving French restaurants were of that sort of thing. 

Finally, at last, she heard a lock in the door and it opened, and Regina was there, tired, smiling apologetically.

“I am so, so sorry Emma. Just give me a few minutes to wash up-“ she said, sliding into the bathroom and clicking the door shut.

Emma wandered over to the television and turned it up slightly. She looked at the clock. It was almost 10. They were definitely way past their reservation. Some date night this was turning out to be.

When Regina emerged, however, she looked fresh and stunning as always. She’d taken off the blazer she was wearing to reveal a soft silk blouse underneath. Emma smiled. “Hungry?”

Regina smiled back at her, brushing her hand through her hair. “I am,” she said, moving towards her, kissing her firmly, holding her tight. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered into her neck a few minutes later.

Emma was sorry too, and wanted to say something. But Regina did seem tired, and she said she was starving, so… 

“Let’s go.”

 

Their dinner reservations had long since been given away, but the restaurant found them another table and seated them graciously. It was a quiet sort of restaurant, dark and charming, with exposed brick walls and rustic wooden floors. They ordered glasses of chilled white wine and mussels as an appetizer. 

“Everyone is obsessed with oysters these days, but give me a classic moules frites any day,” Regina was saying as she helped herself to the little shelled creatures, drowning in what was supposed to be some sort of white wine, butter and garlic sauce.

Emma didn’t know what to say to that. She didn’t exactly love any kind of seafood that required de-shelling before consuming, but she gamely tried some of the little shellfish.

The wine was good, at least.

“You fit into this world,” Emma observed, halfway through dinner.

Regina looked up at her, the candlelight flickering on her face. “What do you mean?”

 Emma sighed. “I mean, you belong here. Everything you worked for - your education, your business - clearly it’s all led to this. You have a job that you deserve and are a natural in, you have a beautiful apartment, you live in a romantic city. This is you.”

Regina smiled. “I suppose I do. It is everything I imagined it would be."

Emma smiled sadly and took another sip of wine.

Regina hesitated. It was everything she imagined. Almost, at least. Even if she belonged here, she was not sure the people she cared for most also belonged here.

“Henry fluctuates from being okay with this situation, to not being okay with it all and complaining about wanting to go home. Things aren’t perfect,” Regina admitted slowly.

Emma nodded. “He’s a kid, though. He’s having good experiences here. I've heard him speak some French, even.”

“I suppose so,” Regina said a little uncertainly.

There was something else she wanted to confess to Emma. 

“It’s not the same without you here,” Regina admitted.

Emma stopped, looked at Regina. She gave her a sad smile. “I don’t belong here, Regina."

Regina quickly looked down at her food. “I know.”

“You’re doing the right thing by doing all of this, you know,” Emma said. “I’d never feel right about keeping you from all of this. If you’d stayed home for me, you would’ve always wondered what it might have been like. It wouldn’t have been good for us.”

Regina nodded, recalling the conversation they’d had a year ago before she left. “I know.”

Emma placed her hand on top of Regina’s. “When you’re ready to come home some day, Swan Song will be there. No doubt thanks in part to you, and your advice and your willingness to answer my middle-of-the-night pleas for help with tax forms and budgets and supplier price increases.”

Regina laughed to ease some of the tension. “The time zone difference helps with answering those emails.”

They went back to their food for a few moments, eating in the dim candlelight. Somewhere in the restaurant, a live musician started to play a guitar and sing.

“Emma?” 

“Yeah?”

“I don’t expect you to wait for me, you know. I’m not there. I know it’s unreasonable for you to wait for me forever."

"Oh," Emma said. 

"I don’t exactly have a plan for when I’m coming back," Regina said quietly, taking a sip of wine.

Emma took a deep breath. “I know you don’t. There hasn’t been anyone, though.”

Regina nodded. “Nor for me. But we’re adults. I just didn’t want you to think you had to… wait.”

Emma shook her head. “I don’t. I know. And… likewise. For you.”

Regina nodded. 

After dinner, they walked a bit, going up and down the picturesque, dark streets, stumbling across statues and standing on a bridge overlooking the Seine. 

“I guess I should head back to my hotel now,” Emma said. 

Regina looked at her sadly, as if trying to memorize her face, her features… her full lips, her golden-straw hair, her strong jaw and graceful yet athletic body. She never wanted to forget any of it, how Emma looked in this moment, in the city lights at night. She moved just a bit closer. She wanted to remember her smile, the way she smelled, the way her hair fell.

“I had a dream when I was here last year,” Regina recalled. “You were in it. You had arrived and were staying with me at a hotel. You and I were sitting outside, and you got mad at me and left… I almost texted you that night when I woke up, after I had that dream, but I was too nervous to do so. To admit that I had any feelings about us, to admit that I’d grown so attached to you in such a short amount of time.”

“I remember how you didn’t text me much while you were gone on that trip,” Emma admitted.

Regina took both of Emma’s hands into her own. 

“I deeply, deeply care about you, Emma,” she said, squeezing them lightly. 

“And I you,” Emma said softly, the breeze kicking up the hair around her shoulders. She leaned forward, hugged Regina closely. “I’m so proud of you.”

Regina laughed a bit at that. “I’m proud of you. I wish I could witness how successful Swan Song is - and drink that coffee every morning.”

“It’ll be there when you come home,” Emma said, though she was starting to doubt that Regina would come home.

“If you want, you can come back to my place with me tonight,” Regina said. 

Emma thought about it for a moment. “I know I should say no, but what the hell, I’m here. If I come with you though, will you promise me one thing?”

“What is that?”

“When I leave, will you at least say to me, ‘We’ll always have Paris?’”

They both laughed at that, and wandered off into the night, hand-in-hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second-to-last chapter :)


	15. Forever

**Two Years Later**

Regina insisted that Henry join her one Sunday for a walk.

“Let’s go to that bookstore you like,” she offered from the doorway to his room, “The one where we found all of the old comic books.”

Henry shrugged from where he lay on his bed, playing a game on his phone.

Regina cocked her head. “Henry, what is it?”

“Fine, I’ll go,” he said grumpily.

“What is this attitude I’ve been getting from you all of the time lately?” she said, her voice turning stern.

She quietly cursed herself as she heard herself talk. She sounded just like her mother.

Her voice softened when she spoke again. “I just wanted to do something you might enjoy.”

“That’s a new one,” Henry snapped back. “You’ve been so busy lately I didn’t know you even remembered what I like.”

“Henry,” she said, her voice sharp again and her hand on her hip. “Don’t speak to me that way. Apologize, please.”

“Sorry,” he grumbled, clearly not meaning it.

“Forget about the bookstore,” she said, frustrated, walking out of his room. “But we’re going out to eat tonight. Be ready by eight.”

+

Henry picked at a piece of bread and kept looking down at his phone as they sat at the table at the restaurant. Regina was just as bad, unable to detach from her own phone, even though it was a Saturday and the last thing she should be doing was work.

She caught a glimpse at a family at an adjoining table, no phones in sight, laughing and talking and sharing a plate of food. That made her pause, glance back at the phone in her hand and the one in her son’s hand, sigh heavily, and drop her phone back in her Chanel bag.

“Henry,” she said, willing her tone to be gentle. “Let’s put the phones away tonight. I put mine away."

He frowned slightly, but put it in his pocket. 

“What do you see on the menu?” Regina asked, glancing at the menu written on a chalkboard on the wall.

“Maybe the steak,” Henry said.

Regina raised her eyebrows. The steak looked like a hearty meal - but then again, her son was now taller than she was. He’d grown up in a blink of an eye. “It looks good,” she agreed. 

She’d been tempted to try the duck breast and sautéed greens, but looking at the steak, she changed her mind. “You know what, I think I’ll have the same.”

“With the fries?” Henry asked.

“Henry,” she said. “Don’t you think we should have some vegetables?”

“Like we do every night,” he grumbled.

“It’s healthy. You’ll feel better.”

“I want the fries.” He sighed. “You used to be fun.”

“What? What ‘used to be’?”

“Ever since we moved to Paris, you’ve gone back to all business, all the time. Just like you were before Emma.”

“Before Emma?” Regina repeated, taking a sip of her sparkling water.

Henry wasn’t speaking to her respectfully, and that make her angry - as his mother, she should stop him from giving her all of this attitude. But the way he was saying it, so matter of factly, she felt more hurt than anything.

“Yeah, before Emma, you were like this. Email at dinner, all salads and healthy foods, no pizza or fries once in a while. You lightened up for a while, but it’s all just gone back.”

“I’ve been busy, Henry. And I don’t need to explain myself to you.”

“Yeah, but you were busy with work when you were with Emma that year, too. And you were still more fun, and spent less time on email on the weekends."

“Well, we’re here now,” Regina said, processing what he was saying.

“I wish we were home,” Henry said quietly.

Regina studied him. He was playing with the corner of his napkin, taking a sip of water. He looked so old - so much older than he had when they’d left California. He’d become more serious, more sullen. He’d always been a little withdrawn, but he hadn’t really taken to Paris, and hadn’t made many friends. He spent more time alone than anything else.

She knew Henry wasn’t thriving here, but she hadn’t wanted to admit that fact to herself. The fact that, once again, she'd failed her loved ones.

Now, with him in front of her, so morose, it was an undeniable truth.

“Let’s get fries,” Regina said, closing her menu. 

It was the least she could do for tonight.

+

“Vegas,” Zelena said, sitting on a couch, talking to Regina over FaceTime.

“Vegas?” Regina repeated.

“I want to celebrate two years of marriage. It’s been my longest marriage ever!” Zelena said proudly.

As if on cue, Walsh walked up behind her and kissed her on the forehead. “Hi, Regina,” he said, waving to the camera.

Regina waved back.

“Congratulations,” Regina said. “But it’s odd for you and Walsh to go to Vegas… can’t you think of somewhere more romantic?”

 “Oh, Walsh isn’t coming along, sis. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I want to celebrate with all of my friends, and you of course. It’s a girl’s weekend.”

“That is ridiculous, and on top of being ridiculous, sounds suspiciously like your bachelorette party, except you’re married this time,” Regina said. 

“Oh, come on Regina, don’t be a bore. I want you to come. Emma already agreed to join us. Ruby will be there, along with Dorothy - the two of them have threatened to use it as an excuse to elope - it will be lots of fun!”

“Vegas is really far away from Paris.”

“You haven’t visited in a long time. I’m sure Henry wants to visit. Come on, sis. It’s time to come home.”

Regina hesitated. On some level, she knew her sister was right - more right than even she realized. The plan all along had been to consult for the company that had bought FORBIDDEN for a year or two, and the two years was just about up. Henry was fast approaching his last years of high school, and she knew he’d like to finish school in the U.S. Attending an international school in Paris just wasn’t the same experience he’d be getting back home. 

And she… well, even without Henry pointing it out, she knew she'd sunk into her old habits, of work, of being busy, of thinking about nothing other than her emails, her phone calls, her texts… it was a routine that she used to relish, but this time around it felt different. It was okay, she knew what she was doing and she was good at it, but her life, in general, simply wasn’t as satisfying as she thought it would be. 

Work failed to completely satisfy her these days.

Perhaps because she knew that alternatives existed.

"Is Emma going?” Regina asked tentatively.

“She is.”

“Is she seeing anyone?” Regina asked.

She hadn’t talked to Emma much in the year since she’d visited Paris.

“I don’t know,” Zelena said honestly. “But if you come to Vegas, you’ll find out.

“Maybe,” said Regina.

“I’ll take that as a yes and add you to the hotel reservations and guest list,” Zelena said quickly, and ended the call before Regina could protest.

+

Two weeks later, Regina touched down in Las Vegas. She’d sent Henry back on a direct flight to California to spend some time with his father’s family while she caught up with her sister in Vegas. She checked into the hotel - she’d gotten her own room at Panache this time - and the went upstairs to the suite her sister had reserved for herself and the small handful of friends that had come along on the girls’ weekend.

“Regina!” Ruby greeted her with a wide grin and a big hug when Regina rang the buzzer to the penthouse suite.

“Nice to see you,” Regina said, bristling slightly at the onslaught of emotion, but forcing herself to relax before Ruby could think she was being rude. 

In her relapse into her isolating working life in Paris, she’d forgotten what it was like to be around friends.

“Come in,” Ruby said, guiding her in. “You remember Dorothy?”

Dorothy waved shyly, and Ruby hopped next to Dorothy and held up her hand so Regina could see. “Check it out.”

Regina saw a glimmering ring - a ruby surrounded by two diamonds - on her finger. “Congratulations!”

“Thanks,” Ruby said. “We’re thinking the next party will be our bachelorette parties - you have to come, of course!”

“Of course,” Regina said, taken aback slightly, but grateful to be included nonetheless.

Ruby guided Regina into the room, re-introducing her to some of Zelena’s friends and finding Regina a cool glass of white wine.

“Are you still working at Swan Song, Ruby?” Regina asked, making polite conversation.

“I’m working there part time - my party planning business has really taken off lately. I’ve got endless requests for birthday parties, bachelorette parties, and I’m even dabbling in wedding planning with another friend of mine!”

“Good for you,” Regina said, genuinely impressed.

Just then, a blonde emerged from an outdoor terrace, and Regina was instantly distracted. Ruby followed her eyes.

“Did you know she’d be here?” Ruby asked gently.

Regina nodded and took a sip of her wine. “I did.”

“I’ll let you two catch up,” Ruby said, winking as she rushed back to Dorothy’s side.

Emma now paused, noticing Regina. 

Regina took a resolute breath, smiled, and walked towards Emma. Emma looked into her eyes, smiled slightly, and nodded towards the terrace. Both women slipped out into the golden, late-afternoon sun.

“The prodigal sister returns,” Emma said.

“I have,” Regina said, biting her lip and studying Emma. “You look lovely, Emma.”

Emma nodded. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

They both took sips of their drinks.

“How are you doing?” Regina asked.

They’d exchanged a few texts and emails over the months since Emma visited Paris, but any substantial conversation had died off.

“I’m good,” Emma said. “Swan Song is good. People love the coffee, the art gallery part of it gets a lot of PR and general attention from people passing through town, and Ruby’s little party planning service took off, which somehow helped Swan Song even more - maybe because Ruby drags all of her potential clients into the cafe for their meetings, I don’t know. Anyways, business is hopping.”

Regina smiled. “I’m glad.”

“Oh, and last Christmas? I got all the proper permits to put my tacky Christmas decorations, carolers, and even extra patio tables out on the sidewalk. You wanna know how?”

Regina narrowed her eyes. “How?”

“Being mayor doesn’t hurt.”

“How are you mayor?” Regina asked, her jaw dropping slightly. “I thought the meetings bored you.”

“Yeah, they did, but after you left, I started attending a few of them, just to see if the town would fall apart without you,” Emma said playfully.

The truth was, she didn’t really have as much of a life with Regina gone, and the town meetings were the only thing that filled up some time and gave her a social life outside of the stuff that Ruby and Dorothy sometimes invited her to.

“And then you decided to run as mayor?” Regina asked.

Emma shrugged. “I figured why not. No one was that interested in running, so I didn’t exactly have steep competition, and running a campaign for mayor gave me something to do that wasn’t work, and distracted me from my lack of social life. And so I found myself as mayor. Probably wouldn’t do it again once my term is up, but it’s an experience.”

Regina laughed. “I suppose so. Congratulations, Mayor Swan.”

“You know, if you decided to come back to your store, as Mayor, I could give you the welcome you gave me when I was opening my business, just for old time’s sake,” Emma teased lightly.

Regina shook her head. “I suppose it would be deserved,” she said, laughter in her eyes.

Both women felt it. They were falling into sync. The old banter, the old memories. Two years ago seemed like an eternity ago in some ways, but just yesterday, in other ways.

Being together again made it feel like hardly any time had passed.

They spent time with Zelena and her friends the rest of the evening, but the next night, Zelena and Ruby had secured tickets to another semi-risqué cabaret and Emma and Regina both decided to opt out. Dorothy seemed to have had similar reservations, but Ruby dragged her along, assuring her it was all in good fun.

Emma wasn’t in Vegas with anyone else over the weekend, but Regina still hadn’t gotten the opportunity to ask her if she was seeing anyone. She hoped to get the chance soon.

“I guess it’s just you and I tonight,” Emma said to Regina as they waved off the group in the lobby.

 “I suppose so,” Regina said, suddenly feeling nervous about being alone with Emma at last, but the good kind of nervous. 

The butterflies in your stomach, barely grounded kind of nervous. The kind of nervous that told you that the air was heavy with potential.

“Let’s grab some dinner,” Emma said. “If you like Italian, there’s a pretty good place in a hotel nearby. We can walk.”

“How about those burgers?” Regina asked, remembering their late night meal nearly three years ago.

“Seriously? All right.” Emma said, smiling, her pace quickening. "We'll have to walk further, but it's worth it. As you know."

As they walked, Regina spoke. “Do you still have your house here?”

Emma shook her head. “No, I sold it a few months ago. Neal offered to buy it - he’s pretty much settled himself down here - and I took him up on it.”

“Really? I’m surprised you decided to leave all of it behind.”

“It was time,” Emma said. “Story Brooke feels like home now."

“Home,” Regina echoed. “I miss it.”

“Home as in Paris, or home as in Story Brooke?” Emma asked.

“Home as in Story Brooke,” she said. “I’m ready to be done with Paris.”

“Really?” Emma asked. “Any reason in particular?”

“I think I got what I wanted to get out of it. I saw the line of lingerie I designed and created and brought to fruition go off into the world and be successful. I consulted with industry leaders in Paris, ushering the FORBIDDEN line to more success than I ever imagined it would have. And now that I’ve done it… I think I can come home now. Because I know what it’s like, i know I can do it, but I also know that I didn’t love the overall process as much as I thought I would.”

“I’m sorry,” Emma said. “That it wasn’t what you thought it would be.”

“The work itself was,” Regina said. “It completely met my expectations, and I enjoyed most of it. I just mean that my overall quality of life didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel like I thought it would. I mean, I went to industry events all of the time. I met with some of the most brilliant and influential minds in the industry. I loved that. But at the end of the day, I had a son who had a short tolerance for living in a crowded, busy, foreign city, and no one to talk to, no one to socialize with, no one to really share it all with.

Regina stopped walking. They were near a palm tree, in a small courtyard set amongst a few massive buildings, a fountain splashing cheerfully somewhere in the garden nearby.

Emma stopped next to her.

“It lacked you,” Regina said at last. “I missed you, Emma.”

Emma hesitated.

“I… know what we said when we were last together,” Regina said nervously. “We agreed not to wait around. So if you’ve moved on, I understand.”

Emma swallowed and shoved her hands in her pockets.

Regina felt a slight surge of panic. But then Emma spoke.

“I tried. I knew I should try, so I tried," Emma said slowly, her blonde hair rippling in the breeze. "I saw a few people. But it wasn’t anything serious. It never felt... well... you know. So I’m not with anyone now.”

A flicker of happiness, of relief, and of hope crossed Regina's face.

“I told you once that I had to take things one step at a time," Regina said slowly, stepping slightly closer to the woman. "That I can't just jump into something."

Emma looked at her, shifting nervously. Still, Regina continued to speak, even after sensing Emma's hesitation. 

"But I don’t feel that way any more. I know what I want. I had to take a journey to get here. But I'm here, and I know."

Emma looked at her, a conflicted expression on her face.

Regina continued nonetheless.

"I so desperately miss home, Emma. You are my home in a way nobody - and no place, and nothing - ever can be."

"It's been two years," Emma said softly.

“I know,” Regina admitted, nervous, backtracking slightly. "I want to come home, Emma. And considering the store I will probably be running when I am back will have a broken coffee machine, I will need to get my coffee at Swan Song."

But her heart sank as she looked at the expression on Emma's face as she spoke. She had hurt Emma. All along, these past two years, Emma had acted so supportive of Regina's decision. But there was still some pain there, underneath it all, despite both of their best intentions. Regina knew it as she stood before her. She understood it completely.

"It might take a long time," Regina said gently, "For you to welcome me back."

Emma bit her bottom lip, and her gaze flickered briefly to Regina's mouth.

“If you don’t want me going to Swan Song, I understand. Or I understand if you prefer I take it slow, not come by too often,“ Regina said, and even as she stumbled over the words, she knew they sounded ridiculous, and they were so not about the coffee.

But despite it all, Emma felt it, the energy that had flared up between them in the air. And that, added to the genuine truth in Regina's words, prompted Emma to cut her off.

“Enough talking," she said, her eyes melding into Regina's, her expression resolute. "Enough time has passed already. Screw slow.” 

She took Regina's hand, guided her out of the sidewalk and into the shadows underneath the palm tree.

Regina watched, mesmerized, her heart threatening to burst out of her chest, as Emma took her face into her hands and kissed her firmly.

Regina immediately responded, wrapping her arms around Emma’s waist, holding onto her and deciding, at long last, that she would never let her go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you. :) 
> 
> (Also, I'm toying with the idea of adding an epilogue.)
> 
> EDITED ON 10/22/2016 TO ADD: Thanks to everyone for your comments! I needed a little bit of a break from working on this project, but it has crept back into my mind and I'm currently revisiting it (and possibly making a few light edits here and there, though nothing that would really change the story). To those wondering about the epilogue: absolutely. I still want to write it.
> 
> And, for those of you who have been wondering about any future writing from me, yes, I am tossing a few ideas around. Stay tuned. :)


	16. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I haven't forgotten. This is the long-awaited epilogue. :)  
> Please see the notes at the bottom for an exciting announcement about the PUBLISHED version of this story!

“This apple pie is ridiculous,” Emma said, moaning as she sat on their couch, lounging, barefoot, in front of the fire in Regina’s study. “Totally sinful.”

Regina grinned proudly, still wearing her black and white floral apron, pearl studs in her ears and her hair perfectly coiffed, looking like some picture-perfect-housewife-meets-business-exec-who-can-cook. Only Regina could successfully pull that look off, Emma thought happily to herself.

Regina pulled her apron off and leaned over to Emma, whispering into her ear.

“I’ll show you sinful later,” she said in a low voice, grinning.

Emma licked her lips and felt goose bumps form on her skin. She swallowed, and as good as the pie was, was suddenly far less interested in it.

“I’m afraid I put in too much cinnamon,” Regina admitted in a normal voice, sitting down with a small piece of pie next to Emma.

“Don’t be. It’s perfect.”

Regina sat down on the couch with Emma, kicking off her heels and putting her bare feet up. They’d traded in her old leather sofa for a softer one made of a twill fabric, something Emma had chosen. It was one of many changes Regina had made to her house Emma moved in six months ago, soon before Henry was due to start college.

“Have you found any place for us to travel yet?”

“Narrowing it down,” said Emma. “I think the places we’d like most - culture and history and shopping for you, outdoor activities and artwork for me - are going to be, and stick with me here, either Mexico-”

“Okay,” Regina said.

“Or Iceland...”

“Iceland?” Regina asked, curious.

“New Zealand...”

“Such a long plane ride,” Regina said.

“Argentina...”

“Another long plane ride, but not as bad...”

“Or we could just take a road trip.”

Regina laughed. “I’ll leave it up to you.”

“But this is supposed to be your vacation,” Emma said. “We’re only going because you suggested travel would be the only way to distract you from missing Henry now that he’s off at Dartmouth, on the other side of the county.”

“Can we take a road trip to visit him?” Regina asked.

Emma laughed. “No.”

She’d suggested they travel to take Regina’s mind off of Henry, otherwise she was dangerously close to becoming a helicopter mom.

“You can’t go there after moving him in and saying goodbye. He’ll be home for Christmas. It’s way too embarrassing for a college aged kid to just have his mom show up whenever,” Emma had explained to her a million times.

They had flown Henry to school two months ago, attended the parents’ orientation and gotten him settled in his dorm. Regina had been struggling with what to do ever since. She had finally hit her stride these past two years, spending more time with her teenage son after they moved back from France. But his two remaining years of high school had sailed by upon their return, and now she was facing another mini-identity crisis.

She had gone back to work at her shop. Now, due to legalities, the boutique had changed names. It was no longer “Forbidden,” but simply named Regina Mills & Co.

At the boutique, she carried a wide variety of women’s clothing (and lingerie) in addition to part of the FORBIDDEN line, as well as luxury fragrance, candles and small gifts and stylish housewares. It was not quite the runaway success that the boutique had once been when it was exclusively a shop for FORBIDDEN lingerie and totally under Regina’s control, but it was still a moderate success, profitable enough to more than justify it staying open.

Swan Song, on the other hand, was thriving, and in the past years had developed somewhat of a cult following. Emma had opened an online store to sell her uniquely sourced blends of coffee beans, and even a subscription box to the cafe’s devotees that was mailed out once a month.

In the space upstairs from the cafe, Ruby owned a yoga studio. She’d “retired” from party planning, insisting after a 30th birthday trip to India that she had found a new calling in life. The combination of a coffee shop downstairs and a yoga studio upstairs proved to be an irresistible draw for many in the neighborhood.

And now, they were planning a trip, just the two of them, in part so Regina could get her mind off of Henry’s absence, as well as to celebrate their successes.

Regina also had something else in mind.

“I’m leaning towards Argentina,” Emma said aloud. “I think it’s got a bit of everything we’ll want to see and do on vacation. Outdoor stuff and art for me, culture and fashion for you.

“That’s fine with me. My father’s family is actually from there,” Regina said.

“Really?” Emma asked. “Wait... maybe you mentioned that to me once.”

Regina nodded.

“Does that mean... do you speak Spanish?”

Regina nodded again. “Of course.”

Emma stared at her, amazed. “You learn something new everyday.”

Regina laughed. “It’s a little rusty, but it will work. I’m better at Spanish than Icelandic.”

Emma’s mouth dropped. “You speak Icelandic?”

Regina laughed. “No. I’m joking, dear. I’ve limited myself to just Spanish and French as second languages.”

“Don’t forget the language of love,” Emma joked lamely.

“La distancia más corta entre dos lenguas es una lengua,” Regina said.

“I have no idea what you just said, but it sounded ridiculously sexy,” Emma responded.

Regina raised her eyebrows and took Emma’s hand. “You have no idea how sexy it is. But you soon will.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ll see. By the way, a highly effective way in which to learn a new language is in bed,” Regina said, a glimmer of mischief in her eyes.

“Suddenly I’m way more interested in learning languages,” Emma said, playing along and following her upstairs.

¨°¨

On the trip, Emma had wanted to go backpacking in the mountains, which Regina vehemently protested.

“Be my guest, but you will never get me in hiking boots,” she said. “I’ll stay in the hotel room with a glass of wine.”

They compromised by taking a horseback ride through the foothills, which overlooked endless acres of land covered in vineyards. They were deep in the heart of the winemaking region of Argentina, and as they were visiting in November, spring was in full bloom.

At the end of the day, they both collapsed in their room at a luxury resort overlooking the vineyards, exhausted but elated.

“Don’t fall asleep too long,” Regina said sleepily to Emma, who was closing her eyes next to her. “I have reservations for dinner.”

“What time?”

“10.”

“10?”

“It’s the time they eat dinner here,” Regina said sleepily, before they both drifted off into their naps.

Regina woke up around 8, and busied herself getting ready for dinner. She glanced over at Emma sleeping at one point, her radiant blonde hair splayed across the pillow, her cheeks flushed from the day in the fresh air and sun. She looked lovely, truly glorious, thought Regina, pausing.

Regina walked over to her carry on bag. There, in a tucked-away zipper, she had stored a little ring, carrying it carefully from home on the planes and cars they had taken to get here, to their remote escape.

She put it in her evening bag.

¨°¨

There was live music at the restaurant. Regina had been careful to choose a place that would be special. She did not want it to feel too uptight or make Emma uncomfortable, but at the same time, she wanted it to be memorable, unique. They were seated in a courtyard behind the restaurant, with a fire in the middle of the outdoor space and strings of fairy lights all around them. The food was fresh, the wine flowed freely, and the music lent it the relaxed, cheerful vibe that Regina had hoped for.

They were seated near a fountain, too, which Regina felt lent a nice touch.

“Emma?” Regina asked after they ordered.

“Yes?” Emma asked.

“You’ve always been so supportive of me.”

“And you’ve been supportive of me,” she replied quickly.

“I know. But when I moved to France, it was hard. I knew I was ending our relationship. And yet you were encouraging me to go.”

“It seems like so long ago now,” Emma said. “You were gone two years, but it’s already been over two years since you returned.”

“I never expected you to still be around, much less still interested in reconnecting with me, when I got back,” Regina sighed.

Emma smiled and shrugged. “But I was.”

“I was so lucky,” Regina said. “I was so grateful for the second chance. Those two years were so important. They allowed me to realize what my life would be like once I got the career I’d always wanted and had dreamt of. But they also realized what a tragic, empty feeling it was to live a life without someone to truly share it with. And vice versa, to not have someone else whose life you can participate in. To not have another world you are a part of, to not have your horizons broadened in that way.”

Regina paused. There were tears in her eyes. She was not expecting that. She had thought, a million times, about what she was going to say, but tears had never been a part of the plan. She took a moment to take a breath, to collect herself, to get what she was about to say back on track.

Meanwhile, Emma took Regina’s hand and squeezed it. “Regina... where is this coming from?”

“Emma, I adore you. I have since I saw you outside that one morning before Christmas when I got mad at you, I have since you stood up to me at that town meeting, I have since you visited my house and it was raining and you brought me that bottle of wine and we shared it before dinner. I cherish that night, in Vegas, next to the fountain, and I love that we’re sitting next to another fountain right now because it reminds me of how beautiful that moment was. I cherish every second we have had together and I cherish the thought of every second we will, hopefully, have in the future.”

Regina paused, reached into her purse, and took out a small box.

Emma’s mouth dropped slightly open at the sight of the box, but she did not say anything.

“Will you do me the honor...?” Regina asked, and before she could get the rest of the words out, her voice caught in her throat, and Emma’s cheeks flushed and a smile crossed her face and her eyes turned watery too.

Emma nodded, half-stood up, and leaned across the table to kiss Regina.

“Of course,” she laughed, pressing her forehead to Regina’s after the kiss, smiling.

Regina laughed in relief, elated, and handed her the ring box. Emma opened it, revealing a simple diamond solitaire.

She tried it on. It fit perfectly.

“There’s only one condition,” Emma said a few seconds later.

“What?” Regina asked.

Emma smiled at her. “That you finally stop paying for coffee every time you come into Swan Song.”

Regina smiled, leaned over and kissed Emma. “I could get used to that.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Note updated June 2017*
> 
> Before we begin, I just want to say THANK YOU. Thank you all for your lovely comments. Thank you all for reading. Thank you... even if you just took a peek. It's really amazing to put just a story that I felt like writing out there and then have so much kind and positive feedback in return, 2.5 years later. I love you all so much, you have no idea.
> 
> So here's the thing. I did not forget the epilogue, not by a long stretch. Over the past couple of months, I tried to take some time away from this story and write other things, because I have so many ideas and I was getting impatient to explore them. That, however... didn't work so well. Mainly because my mind kept coming back to this story. I ended up reading, then re-reading, then editing, then re-editing all of these chapters so much that they kind of have become something else, something bigger and better, I think. While the core of this story is still there in its new and re-written form, it has really taken on a life of its own. As a result, I have made the decision to let it go out and live its own life (and hopefully reach a bigger audience) by releasing it as an ebook and paperback, which will be available soon on Amazon. More on that in a second. 
> 
> Back to the epilogue. I wanted to be sure to not leave you hanging, so I wrote what I believed would be a fitting end to this particular adventure. The last chapter of the story was really meant to be "the end." In my mind, Emma and Regina finally learned to create a life together because they accepted that their relationship had grown into something bigger than their own individual lives. In that last chapter, they both have finally learned that they are stronger and happier together. But I know that seeing is believing, so after all of my editing and re-writing, I finally was able to write the following epilogue to really wrap it all up, and hopefully present to you all a satisfying (and admittedly a bit fluffy!) conclusion. I am posting that for you now, as my way of thanks to all of you for your support. I really do appreciate your time and just the fact that you have been out there and have given this story a chance.
> 
> If you are not interested in reading the new Lattes & Lace, I just want to bid you farewell now. I hope you enjoyed the epilogue. Thank you again! <3
> 
> MORE ABOUT THE PUBLISHED VERSION:  
> In June 2017 a published version of this story was made available! The story has been heavily edited and reworked in places, and some elements were changed to differentiate it from the source inspiration. ;) However, the core is still there (and I think the epilogue actually ties in better now to the rest of the reworked novel). For more info, just head over to my social media or website.
> 
> You can also find me on:  
> Tumblr: annoragreen.tumblr.com  
> Instagram: @annora_green  
> Twitter: @annoragreen  
> www.annoragreen.com
> 
> *Thanks so much for your follows already!
> 
> Some of you have asked if I will keep this posted on AO3 now that I have an ebook/print version available. I plan to keep it up at least a little while longer on here, because I appreciate your support.
> 
> Thanks again for your kind comments, reviews and likes. This was truly a labor of love and I am glad I pushed for this to be published because it has been a dream come true to see a story of mine in print.
> 
> Finally... yes, I do have more story ideas :) and I hope to be back very soon. Stay tuned.
> 
> See you soon. xoxo, Ana (Annora)


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